


Through Still and Storm

by xladysaya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, AtLA AU, Crime AU, Falling In Love, First Meeting, Happy Ending, LoK AU, M/M, Minor Bokuaka - Freeform, Mystery, NaNoWriMo 2018, minor depictions of violence, more pairings and characters to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 105,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xladysaya/pseuds/xladysaya
Summary: Kuroo’s life in Republic city was always meant to be uneventful, worlds away from Zaofu and reminders of the pain he left there.  He likes it that way, despite the itch in his brain which tells him something is missing. When he meets Tsukishima Kei, his life changes in more ways than one, and the void in his heart slowly begins to close. The blond and his past are shrouded in mystery, but Kuroo can’t stop himself from diving deeper into the sea of secrets and longing.Meanwhile, a serial killer is at large in the city, and their tendency to bloodbend their victims leads to an eruption of prejudice and hatred towards waterbenders. The police are no help, and with the Avatar absent, hope dwindles day by day. With his neighborhood threatened, Kuroo finds himself clawing for answers, and anything to lead him to the culprit. However, as his life becomes more intertwined with Tsukishima’s, he begins to suspect there might be more to these crimes than anyone realizes.





	1. we sent out the SOS call

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally time to post this! I'm so excited to begin posting this fic, I've been working on it for a month and I've poured so much time and effort into it. I've been meaning to write an atla au for months now, but I finally decided to use nano to realize my dream lol. I'm still not done with the full story (hell, I'm barely half way), but I've got 50k ready to share <3 I hope you all enjoy! I'm going to try and update every Tuesday as I continue working on the rest of the fic ^^ I've commissioned a lot of art for this fic so there's no way I can get away with not completing it (not that I'd ever consider that), so buckle in for a long ride ;) 
> 
> Big thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

As soon as Akaashi takes a step towards the set of stairs in front of him, he knows something isn’t right.

The cellar doors look something akin to gates, a fucked up stairway to hell if he ever saw one. No light, no sound. Only that strong, metallic stench wafting up from the concrete at the bottom.

"Ah," Akaashi whispers to himself, his expression neutral as he regards the entrance.  _There's that sensation..._

The rain outside pours down as the police force multitask around him, sharing information and getting ready to investigate the crime scene. Everything is merely a buzz as Akaashi stares into the darkness below him, body stiff.

_"Did you check for vital signs?"_

_"There were no signs of forced entry."_

_"The victim's been dead for hours."_

_"When's the coroner getting here?"_

Akaashi lets it all rush past him. None of it matters quite yet, and it does nothing but skew his thoughts.

How no one else feels _it_ , he doesn’t know. Metalbenders can be quite dense.

It’s still too early to be out, around four in the morning, and Akaashi's eyes burn as they struggle to make sense of his surroundings. He doesn’t bother with an umbrella, letting the water run off his cap and through his uniform. Frigid. He knows his skin is icy to the touch, but his chills are not from the cold. He's hardly moved since he approached the side of the town home, staring down into the open cellar.

Behind him, he hears footsteps sloshing in the street puddles, but doesn’t both turning around. Akaashi wonders how he looks right then, standing here. Normally, Akaashi is efficient,  _meticulous_. He likes getting investigations started as soon as possible, and usually paces the floor while he waits for the security sweep to be finished.

This time is different.

Akaashi hasn’t felt this numb since his first homicide, over six years ago. Since then he’s become calculating, professional, and perfectly capable of separating work from emotion.

Yet that bone trembling tension in the air is not something he can ignore, and it should  _not_  be there. It means nothing good, and he is too experienced for his intuition to be a mistake.

Whatever is down there is purely sinister, and something he likely won’t forget. Worst of all, he doubts the case is as simple as one dead body on the floor.

Regardless, he'll have to go find out.

"Are you ready, Bokuto-san?" He asks, because no one else is brave or comfortable enough to approach Akaashi when he gets so in his head like this. He welcomes the interruption from Bokuto each time though, the only one who can energize him. At least Bokuto is with him. Akaashi doesn’t know if he'd want to face this without his partner.

He expects the usual boisterous, far too _awake_ voice to come booming into his ear, would've preferred it actually. Bokuto's natural positivity would've helped. Of course, Akaashi knows that after all this time, Bokuto can read him better than that, and he’s far more attuned to things than people give him credit for.

"You think something's wrong?" Bokuto asks, abnormally grim, and Akaashi peers up at him in time to see the grimace settling on his partner's face. He didn’t have time to gel his hair that morning, the loose strands falling in front of his eyes, but nevertheless Akaashi can tell they’re piercing the darkness of the cellar with the usual owlish intensity. It’s rare to see Bokuto so...uncomfortable. Akaashi doesn’t like it. He misses the easy-going smile, the radiance.

For once, he sort of needs it.

Without waiting for an answer, Bokuto holds up his hands, giving Akaashi a pair of gloves so as to not touch or contaminate anything.

Akaashi sighs, thoroughly dreading the work, but he takes them.

Yeah, something is _wrong_ , but not the normal wrong. They’ve worked in the violent crime division for years, they've seen a lot of ominous, horrid things.

"It's not normal," is what he eventually comes up with, and he pulls on his gloves with a snap, knowing Bokuto will understand the meaning all too clear.

The steps down to the cellar crunch like gravel under their feet, untiled and unpaved. Akaashi shines his flashlight into the depths as they descend, the smell of metal growing stronger and stronger. It chokes him, singes his nostrils, and Bokuto coughs beside him, raising his hand to cover his mouth.

The walls are wet, and Akaashi stays as far from them as possible.

He doesn’t know if it’s all from the rain, and once they actually reach the bottom, he knows for certain it’s not.

Had he been a rookie, he might've vomited.

"Holy shit," Bokuto whispers, and just as Akaashi thought, that foreboding hunch from before wasn’t accidental.

Akaashi stares as Bokuto circles the... _body_ , marveling at the asymmetrical gashes and flayed flesh. Crimson blood soaks the walls, the floor, and Akaashi can’t step anywhere without coming into contact with it.

He misses the rain terribly, he wants it to cleanse him, wash him off. He swears he feels blood dripping on him just looking at the ceiling.

The...victim, if the corpse can even be considered a person anymore, is split open like a bug smashed on the hood of a Satomobile, entrails out, but dried up. It’s like the corpse had been robbed of all moisture, all life. The remnants of what was once skin sit pallid and sickly against the black floor, the veins drained of blood.

"Akaashi..." Bokuto says numbly into the thick air, mostly for comfort. He sounds like he’s holding his breath, refusing to breathe in the smell of blood and fear which feel ingrained into the room.

Akaashi just shakes his head, listening as more thunderous footsteps come from behind him, the rest of the team flooding in. "It's like he burst..." 

The first officer lays eyes on the victim, and the footsteps halt, the cries echoing into the space.

It’s too loud now, way too loud for Akaashi to think.

"Oh god," an officer whimpers against a chorus of gasps, already backing away. Too soft for this, and Akaashi doesn’t have the time for it. "Oh  _fuck_ , oh shi--"

Akaashi's eyes narrow, and in an instant, his brain kicks into gear, and he no longer has the time to get lost in the suspicion coursing through his mind.

The sort of people who commit crimes like this do not stop. But they made a mistake in their murder method; the sort of bending used is far too obvious.

Akaashi spins around, locking onto the nearest officer who looks semi-coherent, and gives his orders. "Get the bending experts in here  _now_ , and close off the street."

Everyone stays at a standstill, and Akaashi throws off his cap, voice firm. "Go,  _now_!"

Akaashi never raises his voice; they know it’s serious.

The force scurries, but Bokuto stays, giving Akaashi a look he’s all too familiar with.

Those owlish eyes peer at him, unrelenting in their intensity, the golden hue the only pleasant color against the red backdrop.

"Looks like we've got a waterbender on our hands," he says, and as much as Akaashi wishes it wasn't the case, he knows it’s nothing but the truth.

"Yeah," he replies, glaring at his stained shoes. "I guess we do."

\--

Republic City's usual gleam is gone, replaced with dull gray and thunderous echoes, the precursors to lightning not even the dragons could conjure.

When Kuroo looks out the window that morning, he wonders if the gloom of the city will ever end. The rainy season has dominated the sky, large droplets splashing against the water of Yue Bay. It never seems to stop, and considering Kuroo lives in the thin walled apartments of the shipping district, it’s impossible to ignore.

His abode sits not even one block away from the docks, and the tiny square which he calls home doesn’t allow him much escape from the brunt of the storms. The streets are flooded, and getting dry is a task each and every day.

Sighing at the roaring beat of the water, Kuroo gets up from his bed, minding the low, dysfunctional placement of shelf above him. His muscles ache from his lumpy mattress, and he considers sleeping on the floor from now on. But then again, maybe that’s just the rain getting to him. Zaofu always felt sunny…

Kuroo shakes his head. His grandmother never liked a negative attitude in her house.

So, enough of that. He definitely wants to steer clear of those thoughts more than anything, and to do that he needs-- _wants_ to get out of his place, rain or no rain. His neighbors, two earthbenders who moved in recently, have done nothing but yell at each other all night.

They haven’t stopped either.

Dirt and dust fall from his ceiling as a door slams in their apartment, and Kuroo rolls his eyes. Breakfast be damned, Kuroo will pick something up on the way to the loading docks. Last thing he wants is to get worked up into a bad mood before he even leaves the house.

Arguably, leaving his apartment is the best part of any day. He loves living in the city, so much so he sacrificed his spacious condo in Zaofu to move here. It’s a nice change, a new beginning. Simpler. He lives poor, but that means nothing with the center of the world at his fingertips.

It’s what he tells himself, whenever the itch comes back, telling him something is missing, that he has no real, tangible attachment to _anywhere_ anymore.

Today the itch stays far though, washed off in the storm drains like rain water.

Already feeling better, Kuroo flicks his wrist, pulling his keys into his palm from where they sit across the dining table. Maybe he’ll treat himself today, there’s a new cafe down the road which promises authentic dishes from Zaofu. He'll see about  _that_.

In his heart, nothing will ever beat his grandmother’s bean curd puffs, and he’s getting better at pushing those thoughts away with the strength to move entire building foundations.

Kicking on his shoes and running a hand through his hair (which surely looks the same as it always does and therefore can’t be fixed), Kuroo slams his own door just to be petty.

He pulls up his hood as he jogs across the street, eager to pick up the morning paper from the stand near the docks. Workers, mostly waterbenders and earthbenders, are already packing and unloading ships, and probably have been for hours. The smell of fresh caught fish and the screech of metal hulls make Kuroo scrunch up his nose, but this is his everyday, and it calms him. He always did like to be useful, and his bending talent never failed him.

He smiles at the folk around him, hoping they feel that same sense of momentary belonging.

To his right, a group of waterbenders help to steer a ship into port. It fascinates Kuroo, how smoothly they bend the falling rain into arches, offering cover for the ship’s crew, each arm movement delicate and flowing. It’s not an unfamiliar sight, waterbenders. They’re the majority around the ports, commonplace, but Kuroo becomes aware of eyes on them. The docks are normally crowded, but...not this much.

He watches as a group of civilians pass by, eyeing the workers cautiously, the whispers flowing like the water around them. It catches Kuroo's attention, sure, but he quickly shrugs it off. It isn’t uncommon for some people to look down on dock workers. Hell, he’s been at the receiving end of classist comments plenty of times.

"Hey Kuroo," a voice disrupts his thoughts, and Kuroo turns, noting how he’s reached the newsstand without realizing. Yamaguchi sits there, smiling gently, though there’s a certain edge to it this morning. Not a good sign.

Yamaguchi is a guiding light, about as chipper and warm as the flames which can dance off his fingertips. Kuroo takes the paper held out for him, rolling it into his coat for safe keeping.

"Slow morning?" Yamaguchi asks, loud to compete with the rain.

"Not slow enough," Kuroo shouts back, looking towards where the dock workers are retreating onto the ships. Around him, Kuroo can still sense the whispers, the mutterings. His brow furrows. "Did something happen?"

_Maybe an accident..._

A few feet away, a mother hoists her child into her arms, glaring at one of the waterbenders who has come onto the docks for his break. Okay, that’s...odd.

Kuroo continues to stare as Yamaguchi’s voice rushes in his ears.

The other laughs nervously, a bit of playfulness in his tone. "For how much you read the paper, I'd think you would know. They found two more bodies last night over by the butchery."

_Bodies? What--_

"Oh," Kuroo says, the realization dawning on him. "Shit, you'd think the damn police force would catch the guy by now. It's been two weeks!"

A very stressful two weeks.

Kuroo hasn’t read up much on the crime specifics, but he knows the flashy points. It’s sort of hard to avoid. Ever since the first body had been found two weeks ago, everyone seemed on edge. This was one of the worst crime sprees since the mob fights over a decade ago. Republic City has never had a serial killer before, not one without a motive or pattern.

A curfew was put in for some districts, and now more police roam the streets in the evening as a result. Like it helped.

Whoever they have working on the case needs to be fired, Kuroo can’t help but yearn for at least some progress.

Now since the first body, two more people have been taken, left out like roadkill. The public has been ravenous for information, but they haven’t been told the cause of death yet, and Kuroo has a bad feeling about it, especially right now.

Kuroo doesn’t understand, but he’s pretty sure he will, sooner than he wants to.

"The butchery is down the road, what are they all doing here?" he asks Yamaguchi, and off to the side, he can see a few police cars parking at the curbs.

Great. The last thing he wants is his neighborhood clogged up by cops.

Yamaguchi shakes his head, holding up another copy of the paper. The headline read: _Killer Still at Large; Methods Revealed._ "The victims are missing all their blood, like the killer had used..."

Looking around, Yamaguchi leans in closer to Kuroo, his voice hushed as he utters one of the most taboo offenses in their lifetime. Even still, it seems comical, up until he processes it. "Bloodbending."

Just the word, the mention, makes chills climb up Kuroo's spine, and he can’t help it, his eyes flick over to the group of waterbenders currently being questioned by the police.

Well, that’s one lead at least. The killer is a waterbender, but Kuroo doesn’t know if it’ll do much good. He frowns in pity at the troubled faces of the workers, good-natured, normal citizens, and apologizes for even suspecting them for a second. It’s not them, and he feels that deep inside himself, but the thought of the police understanding that…

Kuroo sighs. This surely won’t make life easy for the docks. But Kuroo can’t do anything about that, can only hope things get resolved quickly.

Kuroo gives Yamaguchi a quick nod before he’s off, eyes drifting back to the tribal blues and furs by the port.

\--

The next day, those blues and furs are on the floor of the docks, sopping wet and treated without care.

They slap onto the wet pavement, hand crafted and warm, and Kuroo can't help but cling to his coat.

"I read but..." Yamaguchi begins, since even he abandoned his newsstand in favor of watching the commotion slowly escalate. "I didn't think it was true."

They wished it wasn't.

The public is walled off from the affair, but Kuroo can see enough as cops line up some of the workers, unfortunate souls who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Kuroo knows. He asks a cop what the waterbenders are being questioned for, and he looks at him like it's the stupidest question in the world. Like it doesn't matter.

Yesterday's headline flashes in Kuroo's head, and he's scared to reach for today's paper, the one wrapped tightly in his coat. It will offer an explanation, but Kuroo isn't quite prepared to acknowledge this as reality yet.

Yamaguchi keeps him distracted enough as the questioning continues, so Kuroo doesn't lash out or get involved.

It's hard. More than that, it's unbearable. No one else seems that perturbed though, and any other waterbenders in the vicinity scattered as soon as they realized what would be happening.

Kuroo can't blame them.

He watches in half anger, half curiosity as policemen fit small, metal squares onto the wrists of some of the waterbenders. They all wince at the pinch of it; it whirs a robotic sound, three small, distinct lights blinking one after the other on their sleek surfaces. Red, orange, yellow. One of the female workers whimpers when hers is administered a little harsher, in attempt to speed up the process, but Kuroo soon learns the initial prick is nothing compared to the lasting consequences.

"What...are those?" Kuroo asks finally, because he can't avoid it any longer.

Yamaguchi's gaze is worried, and he's always been the type to express pity and empathy openly, something which used to strike Kuroo as odd. The aggression and stoic veneer of firebenders did not reach Yamaguchi, but then again, maybe Kuroo's simply more naive about these things than he thinks.

"Do you know Oikawa Tooru?" Yamaguchi asks, like he didn't just speak the name of one of the most famous inventors of all time. He's responsible for the railway tech of the city, the bridges, and half the infrastructure. Hell, his name is probably burned into the sides of all the dock equipment.

Kuroo tilts his head, as if to say as much, and Yamaguchi's eyes lower to Kuroo's coat. The paper.

The police pull away in their cars to terrorize more of the docks as Kuroo whips the paper out, and the headline screams at him in bold, rain blurred ink.

_Oikawa Tooru Sues the City for Chi-Blocker Tech Initiative_

Oikawa, who as far as Kuroo knows, always smiles too bright and sunny for the cameras, is pictured with nothing short of a scowl on his face. Kuroo can almost feel the snarl on his face as he reads the direct quotes from the press conference.

_"The police have no right to take my invention to use for their witch hunts. These devices were created to control violent, convicted criminals in our city's prison! This is theft as far as I'm concerned, and I won't rest until full restitution is paid to me and all the victims. All I can say is that I'm sorry."_

Yamaguchi's voice interrupts his reading horror, but Kuroo gets the gist. "They're anti-bending chips. Apparently, they have a time limit. If the person starts to bend, a timer stops, and it only allows thirty seconds. I think the colors are warnings, and they beep too...Yellow and orange mean the person isn't a risk yet..."

Yet...

Just the presence of the chips marks waterbenders as a threat period. How is this allowed? Surely, the council...the president...

Someone has to be stepping in.

"None of the city officials have released a comment," Yamaguchi whispers, as if reading his mind, and Kuroo throws the paper into the nearest trash. Cowards.

He knows it's unfair. Surely, Ushijima Wakatoshi will make a statement, Zaofu had  _better_. But he feels sick. He can't imagine being robbed of such an essential part of himself. Metalbending is more than a defense for him, more than just a convenience. It's what he spent all his summers learning in the parks with his grandfather, in the sculpture gardens with his grandmother...

He might have left Zaofu behind, but it's his culture, where he's from, and his bending is woven into that like the beams of Zaofu's steel domes.

How are these people supposed to live the same?  _Work_  the same?

Kuroo watches as the defeated band of workers reluctantly get back to work, but gone are the aqueous arches and gentle sweeps of the shore, manipulated by their arms. He wants to say he's sorry, but even that seems like an insult, too much.

He's late for work at this point, but he's sure he won't be the only one. He looks to Yamaguchi as he starts to slink back to his newsstand, only one question on his mind. "What happens when it gets to red?"

Yamaguchi just shakes his head. "It administers a...a shock."

It sounds far less sinister than it is, but it still makes Kuroo want to go back to bed for the next two years, until the crime is solved.

Just one shock, but he's sure it's not small.

\--

In the following days, the weather doesn’t change, but a lot of other things do.

_"Why hasn't the Water Tribe representative denounced these attacks yet? It's his people!"_

_"Be careful around that street, it's a Water Tribe district."_

_"I always knew they were suspicious! The way they keep to themselves, you can't trust any of them."_

The gossip and fear mongering is in full swing. Kuroo has managed to somewhat separate himself from the drama. He's more than sympathetic to the waterbenders' plight, but he can't do much but go about his day.

It's harder than it looks.

Kuroo purposefully shoves at one of the men he passes who’s spewing the same hateful words, uncaring of the gruff scoff he gets in return. The fish market rows are narrow enough, Kuroo reasons. If people are going to talk and not shop, they should leave.

Not even Ushijima Wakatoshi, the councilman for the Southern Water Tribe, could quiet the storm with the comments the previous day. All attention came back to his husband, Oikawa, and the press has gone off in every different direction since.

Kuroo slips past the morning crowd with his basket as he tries to get the thoughts out of his mind, throwing in helpings of fish and crab for his dinner. As gross as it smells, he loves the outdoor fish markets, the bright blue tarps providing nice shield from the rain. It’s the only place to get such fresh food, but a lot of the merchants in the fishing business are Water Tribe, and the amount of uncomfortable tension sitting in the air is nearly too much for Kuroo to take.

It's as if they're all lookouts, waiting for police to show so they can cut and run. Kuroo would certainly help.

As Kuroo passes a stall of freshly caught trout, he throws an apologetic smile at the vender, who stands decked out in Water Tribe garb. He’s clearly heard every word.

At least here, waterbenders have strength in numbers. Most of the people shopping are either open-minded like Kuroo, or fellow waterbenders themselves. No one wants to be in an area where a killer could've likely originated.

Whatever, more fish for him.

"Can I get a pound please?" he asks, grinning as he watches workers package his mackerel. Just the thought of his savory meal makes his mouth water, so much so he almost doesn’t notice the quarrel happening a few stands down.

The yells fix that right up.

"P-please, I've worked this stall for years, I have a permit and--"

Kuroo recognizes the voice instantly, and he runs, forgetting his basket. Of all the people...

When he gets to the stand, he sees Asahi with his hands raised in surrender, always trying to placate people who didn't deserve it. People usually stayed away from him, his height and bulk enough to seem intimidating, but these people were bold.

"Exactly, who's to say you haven't been scoping the area? You waterbenders should stay off the streets as far as I'm concerned," an older man says, his face red and blotchy from all the screaming he's doing. Kuroo would rather be locked in a square room with the killer themselves than with this guy.

Anyone who yells at someone as nice and generous as Asahi, who gave Kuroo free fish when he first moved to the city and was still lost and homeless, is on Kuroo's shit list.

Asahi shakes his head, his parka jostling. Of course, Asahi would never think of disguising himself. A proud member of the southern tribe; Kuroo has always respected it, the joy with which Asahi talks about his home. "Sir, I'm not a bender, I don't have anything to do with--"

The man and a few of his friends step closer, too close, to Asahi's stand, and their fists are clenched tight, ready to spring into action at any moment. Kuroo has been in fights, he can feel the escalation in the air, the gasoline, waiting to be ignited. "As far as I'm concerned, you're all  _guilty_."

The minute the man's hand grips Asahi's table, Kuroo moves into action. His hands come up, unlatching the slants of metal around his neck until they sit floating in the air, sharp and ready to halt any attack. He plants his feet, feels that rush which always comes before a strike, and his eyes narrow to slits.

But just as his arm moves back, ready to fire, there's a flash of movement, and someone has beaten him to it.

Green is all he sees, and a speck of blond, before reality settles back in.

Someone steps heavily on top of Asahi's stand from behind, the one step like a boom of thunder. He's careful not to damage any of the goods on top of it, until his feet are back on the ground and he's face to face with the ignorant man. It's so immediate, so loud and commanding, the man and his companions flinch back in an instant. Hell, so does Kuroo.

His metal shards almost hit the concrete, but he manages to collect them, and they fall back into place around his collar.

Kuroo watches, in a trance.

The man is blond, and he towers over the ignorant spewer in front of him. Hate is no longer enough to stamp out fear, and the man stutters, putting more distance between them.

Or maybe it's the blond's clothing. Challenger or not, he's dressed similarly to the men in earth kingdom attire, shale greens like a forest. There's something off about it though. Earthbenders who weren't born in the city are twice as stubborn, they come from landscapes of dry heat and humidity. Winter garb exists, but is often ignored. And Kuroo knows, he  _knows_  this man is new. Kuroo frequents the markets often enough to know names and faces.

He's not dressed like a new earthbender, one too prideful and tough to throw on thick coats and tailor hoods. The blond's tunic is long and an olive hue, reaching past his waist, but it takes nothing from his height. The long sleeves partially hide the bandage wraps on his wrists, and his hood accompanies them. The darker green of it brings out the porcelain of his skin. The sweatpants are thick and tucked into brown boots, like he's trekked a thousand miles just to meet this one asshole face to face.

Even through all this, Kuroo can't look past the weirdest thing. The bright blue, clashing betrothal necklace which sits tightly around his neck, two shells carved expertly into the pendant.

The crowd holds its breath when the blond sneers down at the man, his words a commandment. "Leave  _now_."

Asahi looks somewhere between shocked and thankful as his eyes track the blond, and Kuroo can't help but feel the same.

The hateful man stutters, thrown off, as if he's never been challenged so publicly. "Y-you....you shouldn't be so quick to protect the likes of him! Have some common sense, people are being killed! They're all  _liars_!"

The words sting even Kuroo, and he glares himself, not nearly as powerful as the pure disgust on the blond's face.

Something in his steady scowl cracks though, like he's ready to lunge and tackle the man into the nearest pile of clams, and Kuroo thinks he just might. The man would deserve it, but Kuroo doesn't think it'll resolve anything.

The blond opens his mouth with a snarl, but then his arm is being grabbed, wrenched back with a force. Kuroo winces; the pull is hard enough to dislocate an arm, but the blond just seems inconvenienced at most.

He twists to look behind him, and Kuroo gets a glimpse too. Another man stands there with thick, dark hair parted to the side, and eyes cold and prying like a snake's. His clothes leave no room for analysis. They scream water tribe, violet parka lined with white fur and geometric lines. He stares at the blond defiantly, like his frenzied touch wasn't enough. He whispers something, and the blond flinches, a war playing out on his face.

Before Kuroo can think about it or catch up, his brain pushes him into action during the lull. Kuroo steps out into the crowd, right in front of the blond, and the crowd somewhat remembers to breathe again.

Kuroo thanks his stars his grandfather taught him good public speaking skills; his voice carries, booming across the stalls.

He fixes the hateful man with a stare, and Kuroo can feel the blond's eyes on the back of his neck. "Please, you  _can't_  hold all these people accountable."

When the man opens his mouth, Kuroo fixes him with sharp eyes, not allowing him to interrupt for even a moment. He doesn't deserve it. "Asahi has worked here for years, and he's one of the nicest men I've ever met. I'd appreciate it if you'd move along, so I can buy from him. You're clogging up the row."

Kuroo has always been the civil type in most cases, but there's no warmth in his voice, and the underlying threat of 'move, or I'll move you myself' sits thick around them.

He sees the man swallow, eyes burning with more, but under the scrutiny of all the onlookers, he eventually retreats with a scoff. Kuroo watches their backs as they retreat, until they're completely out of sight.

Kuroo allows himself to exhale, and the bustle of the market seems to resume slowly, the wrapping of paper and slapping of fish filling the space soon enough. He's grateful for it, and turns back to where the blond stands with his water tribe friend, and Asahi.

"Thanks Kuroo," Asahi breathes, slumping into his chair. Kuroo smiles, but it's only half as bright as usual. To think things have gotten this bad...

And then, Asahi perks up, looking over to where the other two men stand. "And thank  _you_ , Tsukishima."

The blond's eyes widen in surprise, and the bold defiance from earlier melts away. Tsukishima bows his head, pulling his hood up as if to blend away from the eyes of the word. His voice is nothing more than a mumble, shy and small. A trickle of a stream instead of the boom of ocean waves. "It was nothing," he says, but then his face contorts into a grimace. "If Daishou hadn't stopped me..."

"You'd be in police custody right  _now_ ," his friend (or so Kuroo assumes), barks back. Daishou's eyes are unkind as they fix onto Kuroo, looking him up and down like he might have some potential disease. "And what are  _you_  still doing here? Want some kind of award, huh? Proud to be a decent metalbender?"

"Ah, hey..." Asahi mumbles, smiling nervously. Tsukishima says nothing, but pulls his arm away from Daishou's hold with no ounce of gentleness.

At the words, Kuroo bristles. He knows it's rare for metalbenders in republic city to  _not_  be cops, and well...cops aren't really beloved now, but he'd never expect praise for being a decent person. He just wanted to help...

He tries not to take offense as he shakes his head. "No! I-I swear, I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay--"

"Yeah, peachy," Daishou mutters, and he's having absolutely none of it. Kuroo squashes the instinct to argue with him. Kuroo understands the hostility, especially with what's been going on, but the bite in Daishou's tone isn't easy to overlook. Then, Daishou is storming away without another word to Kuroo. "C'mon, Tsukishima."

Kuroo knows nothing about him, but the blond doesn't seem like the type to take orders.

And he doesn't, not right away.

Tsukishima breathes, and stays put for a calculated five seconds, right before he might lose Daishou in the crowd or around the next corner. The blond looks to Kuroo, quiet, but without the wrinkles and ridges of contempt which had been there for the protesters. Tsukishima's eyes are as silent  _and_  loud as he is, contradicting Kuroo's analysis. They hold so much that Kuroo can't name, like a slow-moving fire. Stealthy, but capable of so much destruction. Kuroo feels weak under the stare, and he shivers, like he's naked inside and out. Thinking Tsukishima can sense as much is ridiculous, but Kuroo  _feels_  it, the gradual pulling apart of everything Kuroo has to offer.

Then, the blond's eyes soften, and he mumbles two genuine, warm words, and they're arguably more powerful than anything he's uttered prior. "Thank you."

Kuroo feels them, down to the tips of his toes, and by the time he remembers he exists, Tsukishima is gone.

 


	2. rogues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thanks for all the positive feedback from last chapter, it makes me emotional just thinking about it <3 I'm really happy to be posting this fic, and as the story develops I'll probably just become more of a mess lol. 
> 
> Thanks [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over! 
> 
> Enjoy!

The markets are closed a week later, a temporary notice of lack of stock.

It doesn't surprise Kuroo, even as he slinks back along the coastline. He can't really bear to see the empty stands with their tents barely hanging on against the wind. He remembers Asahi's face the previous day, still somehow looking pitifully optimistic.

Kuroo sighs as he rubs the exposed skin of his arms, right where his compression sleeves don't quite reach. He should've worn a jacket; just because it's not raining doesn't mean it's anywhere close to being sunny. The water from the morning fog makes his hair damp, which doesn't help. He can practically hear his grandmother scolding him for risking a cold, but for once he decides not to listen.

He's just fed up. Things are only getting worse.

Kuroo doesn't bother with the paper anymore, he gets an earful of news at work. The other shipyard employees won't turn the damn radio off, even as the coverage gets more and more anxiety riddled.

Kuroo can only take so much.

It's hurting all the port industries, the markets...

As waterbenders become too scared to leave their homes, or the chipped ones see no reason to, the workforce struggles to keep up. Even now, as Kuroo watches the waves crash against the wood columns below his feet, he notices the lack of bodies rushing around, the absence of more shipments than he can count. How long will the city let this go on?

If anything, Kuroo finds himself cursing the Avatar for his scarce involvement, but deep down he knows that's not fair. The Avatar can't be dealing with  _every_  major crime in  _every_  city.

No, they've got no choice but to depend on their police force, and it fucking sucks.

Kuroo sneezes from the cold, like his brain is telling him to cut out the negative spiel. It's not really like him, he admits. He ran from Zaofu to escape his own misery, but he's come to find that witnessing the misery of others is something he can take even less.

He sighs, moving along the docks as far as his legs will carry him.

At some point, he must zone out, because he makes it to a small enclave where most of the fishing boats are worked on. It's there he hears it.

He's only heard it once, but it's so cutting and disgruntled that it's hard to mistake it.

Kuroo lifts his head, searching for the source, when he finds Daishou arguing with two cops by the side of one of the boats.

Daishou's yelling something, defiantly crossing his arms as if he's more fearless than he is. But Kuroo knows the signs. The way he deliberately covers his wrists, backing away as the police get closer. Frightened.

And no matter how much he doesn't like Daishou, it brings Kuroo no pleasure.

Kuroo doesn't hesitate; he runs over.

"We're not going to ask again? Where do you live and are you a  _waterbender_?" The cop's voice bounces off the wooden pier, and Kuroo's blood rushes in his ears.

"It's none of your business!" Daishou practically spit back, hissing like a cornered rattler, but he's still outnumbered here, still at their mercy. An incident will get him arrested in a heartbeat, if noncompliance doesn't first.

Though, maybe he doesn't care. "Why don't you assholes leave me alone!"

The cop grits his teeth in an instant, and he and his partner take a step back, the cables on their waists already spinning, ready to fly forward to incapacitate Daishou with no trace of care. Kuroo just reacts.

A cable flies forward, and Kuroo gets there in time to grab it with ease, sending it careening into a nearby pile of crates. The wood shatters in an instant from the force of Kuroo's own rage, the fragmented pieces cracking and spreading out every which way. Several onlookers back off, and Kuroo doesn't have time to berate himself for obstructing an officer.

He's an idiot like that, and the words are already coming out of his mouth. "You don't have a right to be here, unless he's a suspect he doesn't have to tell you anything!"

The cops stutter from the way Kuroo's necklace lifts from his anger; guess metalbender versus metalbender isn't what they had in mind. "T-They're all suspects!"

"And I'm sure the chief of police would love to hear you say as much," Daishou threatened, his eyes glancing down the road. "There's a news station not far from here..."

One of the cops steps forward, eyes ablaze, but the fire is nothing compared to the one which Kuroo witnessed in Tsukishima's, so it's far from intimidating. It's like a stovetop, at best. " _You_  watch your mouth."

"No," Kuroo interrupted. He obviously has more influence here, and the cop's shoulders notably slump. "You watch it, or this'll be all over the papers tomorrow."

It stings, but Kuroo knows these incidents will continue to happen regardless, and so many probably already have.

But despite this, the threat does it's job. The cop's glare is directed at Kuroo this time, and there's still that fighting tension in the air, like at any moment, one of them is going to lose their temper.

Daishou is glaring at both of them, eyeing the metal trail on Kuroo's back which he surely can see now. He always looks so upset, but maybe that's just his constant state.

If Kuroo had to deal with this, he'd probably be the same.

One of the cops gets in Kuroo's face, but it's nothing compared to the authority of Kuroo's metalbending teachers as a child, so he endures. They both say nothing, and Kuroo doesn't back down.

"We could have you arrested for interfering with an investigation," the other cop threatens, and both of them have smug smiles which Kuroo would love to punch as he finally backs away. He can't stand the guy's breath on his face, and he soaks in the wet morning air as cleanser.

How did people like them ever make it onto the force?

He can feel his fists clenching, and the metal wristlets he wears feel significantly heavier, begging to be used to teach these guys a lesson.

Then, the next words finally make Kuroo snap. "Ordinary citizens should mind their own business, while we take care of the scum."

The wristlets fly off with a loud clink, and the cops spring back, as if they'd been waiting for this. Kuroo's playing right into their hands, he knows it, but he can't stop himself. Daishou's eyes finally widen from shock as he gives him room, eyeing the clean, sharp metal as the cops prepare to send cables flying.

No matter how adept Kuroo is with his bending, it's not a fight he'll win, either in the short term or the long term. He understands that.

But he's at a loss; days upon days of pity piled on top of the other...

He doesn't know what else he can do.

A screech of tires and a blaring of sirens make the cops tense immediately, and any fight they dreamed of having is put on permanent hold when a police car swerves onto the docks.

Kuroo drops his wristlets; he's not that much of an idiot, but he's sure he's been seen.

The new officers are out of the car before it even comes to a complete stop, and the whole body of it jolts as the doors fly open.

"That's enough," the new officer says, and it's more powerful than any yell could've been. Maybe because it's said with such an eerie level of calm, but leaves no room for nonsense. It shouldn't even be audible above the commotion, or the still constant purr of the engine, but it's  _there_ , and impossible to ignore. The officer's eyes are a strange mix of teal and grey,  _piercing._ They're surprisingly not trained on Kuroo, but his obvious underlings.

They freeze up under it, like startled children, and both Kuroo and Daishou stand there in awe.

And if this new officer is the initial intimidation, then his partner is the muscle wrapped step two.

The guy is  _huge_. Kuroo is sure he can crush his head between his hands without breaking a sweat, and Kuroo definitely does not want to upset him. Mr. Muscle doesn't take things into his own massive hands though, he refers to his partner, blinking like an innocent bystander until he gets further notice.

For the wild hairstyle, Kuroo  _knows_  the guy is from Zaofu, but hell, he'd remember seeing this guy...

It's the weirdest combo Kuroo has ever seen, but if it makes the cops stutter like this, he'll take it.

"Officer Akaashi! Bokuto! What...who--"

Akaashi, the one with the daggers for eyes, steps forward. "Can you two tell me why you're performing unassigned civilian interrogations when you should be patrolling the west district?"

The cops flinch, their shoulders stiff. One of them tries to point at Daishou, like he's accusing him of stealing his cookies. "W-well, we saw a suspicious individual--"

"These interrogations will  _not_  be tolerated," Akaashi cuts through the poorly assembled excuse, he barely regards Daishou, or his water tribe attire. Kuroo decides he likes this guy. "Go back to base, Yaku will give you your punishment. And if I see this happening again, I'll report up to the chief herself. Understood?"

Bokuto beams next to him, both severely pleased and proud. Kuroo's confusion grows.

The cops bow their heads, and all other protests die on their lips as they scurry off, tails between their legs.

It's the first time he and Daishou exchange a shared look, one of disbelief, though the waterbender soon returns to his annoyed default, glancing at the ground. Kuroo will take it.

He still isn't convinced he's awake, but when Akaashi and Bokuto are somehow right in front of him, he knows reality hasn't deserted him quite yet.

Kuroo tenses up, and Daishou backs off. They can't help it. Helpful or not, Bokuto and Akaashi are still cops. Maybe they just wanted their subordinates out of the way, so they could get real answers in even less legal ways.

But Akaashi just bows his head slightly, his hands staying tied around his back, away from his cables. Kuroo wonders if it's on purpose. "I'm sorry for the disturbance, I know it was completely unjustified."

Kuroo and Daishou stay tight lipped, unforgiving. Kuroo's scowl fades though, at the very least. He doesn't know what to make of this, or where to go from here. He assumes he's not in trouble, but now that the threat of being arrested is gone, he can't believe he risked so much for a complete stranger.

He couldn't help it, every little thing in the city has been going wrong, he just wanted to add some rightness there too.

Otherwise...

"It feels like no one cares about...any of it," Kuroo breathes out uselessly, and Daishou's eyes lift up from where they're fixed on the pavement. Kuroo doesn't know if Akaashi will get his meaning, there's so much caked under that one admission.

The prejudice, the injustice, the pain of all the waterbenders and dock workers...

The city has hardly made any progress on finding the actual killer on top of it all.

Akaashi's eyes widen, and he looks to Bokuto. There's an intimacy, a knowledge there Kuroo isn't comfortable with, and he looks away.

Bokuto exhales, his commanding voice finally breaking through, and Kuroo thinks it suits him. "Look, the cops have been a mess lately, we know the force has done more harm than good after all. But we're working on a solution everyday..."

His tone is so kind, Kuroo glances back, and those golden eyes are as compassionate as anything. It can't possibly be fake, but Kuroo is becoming increasingly more cynical. But those eyes...they look about as hurt by all this as Kuroo feels.

"What my partner means is," Akaashi adds, quieter, and Kuroo dares to guess...defeated. "We understand your lack of faith in us, but we are working to solve this mystery. It will work out, I know it. Things will go back to normal."

_Normal_.

After all this? After all this ignorance and betrayal has come to light?

Daishou scoffs beside him, echoing his thoughts, and finally walks away.

Kuroo sighs, giving the officers a final goodbye which he hopes communicates all the doubt and turmoil he feels. "I'm not sure that's possible anymore."

The officers stiffen; it's a truth they probably aren't keen on admitting, but Kuroo isn't there to counsel them through it.

Instead, he runs after Daishou, and he doesn't look back.

\--

"Leave me alone," Daishou mutters, and Kuroo is honestly surprised he's let him trail along even this far. Over the course of the ten minute walk, Daishou's shoulders have steadily become less and less stiff, and Kuroo can't help but think he looks as if he's been stepped on.

They're farther inland now, but only by a few blocks. Kuroo realizes they're near where the markets should be, but it's eerily quiet, only the honk of satomobiles and steamboats echo off the haphazard buildings.

The liveliness is gone, so maybe Daishou's demeanor makes sense.

"What happened back there?" Kuroo asks, avoiding the question. He doesn't know Daishou well, but...he figures this method is best for dealing with him. Daishou scoffs, and their trek is bathed in silence once more.

Okay, maybe not.

Thinking to himself, Kuroo decides to do what he does best: talk. Talk until he gets a protest.

"Did they see you waterbending on the boat?"

Nothing. No response, so Kuroo takes it as truth.

"You're a fisherman then, from one of the poles." Kuroo nods to himself, making sure to take in his surroundings as he does so. They're beginning to pass lodgings, and he vaguely wonders if Daishou will allow him to follow him to his actual home. "Were they trying to chip you?"

Daishou flinches, and Kuroo's suspicions are confirmed.

Again, that uncomfortable turmoil in Kuroo's stomach returns. To be without his bending, unable to stand up for others or even help himself. "I can't imagine what that's like..."

He says it on accident, and it's the last thing he expects to get a response. What would Daishou care anyways about how Kuroo feels?

The look in his eyes when the waterbender turns abruptly says he truly  _doesn't_ , but it must've struck some sort of nerve. The frustration locked in Daishou's eyes is almost bratty, as if he's looking down on Kuroo for simple ignorance. It makes Kuroo's eye twitch, before the words even grace his ears. "Of course you  _can't_ , it would never happen. Is that why you keep trying to play the hero? See how far you can get without getting chipped?"

There's a bit of a sing song in those words, a fake layer of polite conversation which makes Kuroo nearly regret stepping into save this guy. The additional head tilt is just adding insult to injury.

He's really too nice sometimes, and he wonders how anyone deals with such an infuriating attitude.

Daishou's smirk grows, and Kuroo can't help but roll his eyes from how pleased he looks with himself, like he's cracked Kuroo's whole game plan.

Oh yes, absolutely. It's all about the credit.

_Please_.

Kuroo has never wanted to stand out in his entire life, not since the age of eighteen anyways. It's why he moved to Republic City, it's why he avoids probending and the police force. Daishou doesn't know anything about him, but then again...what does Kuroo know?

Obviously, trying to defend himself hasn't worked, so he doesn't bother. It's childish, but more than anything he wants to get the best of Daishou in some way. Persecuted or not, serves the little bastard right.

" _Hey_ , if I hadn't shown you'd be in the back of a squad car right now," Kuroo quips, and he stands up straighter, more triumphant. Daishou immediately sputters, fumbling for words. Well, at least now Kuroo knows the guy is terrible at comebacks.

It's useful, and somehow the knowledge that Daishou is all chihuahua bark is satisfying.

"W-whatever, go feel good about yourself someplace else!" Daishou hisses, his hand waving Kuroo off as if he's the most insignificant person in the entire four nations. "You act like just because you stopped that cable you're hot sh-- _it_. Oh  _shit_."

Kuroo almost laughs at how stupid Daishou looks, eyes all wide like that, but then he actually looks to where the waterbender is staring, and he probably looks no better. There's blood trickling down Kuroo’s wrist and hand, the one he'd used to deflect the cable away. He always hated the smell of blood, and it hits him now, as gruesome as ever.

Guess he hadn't been as smooth as he thought. The cut starts in a line before veering off a bit, like the shape of the cable which must've momentarily wrapped around him. As the result, the gash is inconsistent, and the pain catches up to Kuroo as soon as he processes the wound's existence.

Kuroo winces, moving his hand with care, and Daishou's nose scrunches up from how the blood drips onto the concrete.

Whatever. He's suffered worse injuries. After all, metal is dangerous and strong, so for him this is nothing more than a playground injury. Though the blood is concerning...

If he's lucky it won't scar too bad...

"Ah dammit," Kuroo mutters as he cradles his hand. He knows for a fact he doesn't have any bandages at home, and wow, Daishou must be loving this.

Kuroo looks up, but the smirk is gone, replaced with reluctance and exhaustion. He's still avoiding looking at the blood on Kuroo's arm, but he does sigh, turning back around to keep walking. "Idiot, this is what you deserve."

Before Kuroo can snap back, Daishou is gesturing him to come along, and is obviously more than unhappy about it. "But even I know if I don't help, it'll come back to bite me in the ass."

But of course, a direct invitation is going too far for Daishou, so he just keeps walking, not waiting to see if Kuroo will catch up.

Kuroo hates it, letting him win in even the most subtle ways like this, by listening, but as the metallic stench grows stronger, he knows he doesn't have much of a choice.

\--

Daishou ends up not doing much though, apart from leading him to his apartment.

It's a decent place, built into the side of the wall of a building. Back in the day, when the spirit vines were still new and humans were having trouble coexisting, the architecture of the city got severely warped.

Now, people are just used to it.

Buildings squished into more buildings, foundations built from vines and concrete alike. Apartments are inconsistent, like puzzle pieces, hidden in some places, sticking out in others, but it's all one community. The docks are no different, and Kuroo doesn't hesitate to climb the creaky staircase which leads up to the front door.

As soon as he and Daishou step through the threshold, Tsukishima is in front of them, and Kuroo forgets how to be a person again. Those eyes are  _scathing_ , the brunt of the feeling directed mostly at Daishou.

He appears immune to it though, which Kuroo can hardly believe.

"Daishou, where have you--" Tsukishima's eyes work overtime in this case, jumping to Kuroo and down to his wrist, then back to his companion. In the span of those three beats, his expression turns from shock, to realization, and all the way back to anger again.

Kuroo wonders if this isn't the first time Daishou has done something like this, because Tsukishima's glare grows, accusatory and fed up. "What  _happened_?"

It's not a tone Kuroo would ever ignore, but then again, he doesn't exactly know what their relationship is.

Daishou pushes past Tsukishima, leaving Kuroo standing there awkwardly. He feels like an outsider, the tension palpable and rooted in something he has no idea about. He busies himself with staring at the far wall, where an embroidered tapestry sits. It's from the North, he can tell by the purples...

Meanwhile, he can hear heavy footsteps, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Tsukishima turn around with an impressive agility, blocking Daishou again. This time, when Daishou pushes past, he makes sure to bump the blond's shoulder on his way. "You got into another fight with the police, didn't you?"

The word "another" makes Kuroo wince again, and then he's all too aware of the blood drying on his skin. At the sound, Tsukishima looks over, his eyes losing some of their rage. Before Kuroo knows it, Tsukishima is at his side, assessing the damage. His fingers are long and delicate as they follow the wound's path, and the war on his face is a story Kuroo could probably never tell.

Regardless, it seems Tsukishima ends up prioritizing him over Daishou's punishment, and he lets the other waterbender retreat.

"Cables," Tsukishima says, loud enough for Daishou to hear. "You do realize you could've been arrested?"

His voice cracks on the last word, as if he can't even imagine it, and Kuroo can relate. They all know what that means now.

Daishou cups his hands over his ears as he makes a line right for one of the bedrooms, and now Kuroo can't help but openly stare as the two lock gazes once more. Daishou turns; Tsukishima looks like he wants to strangle him. "Doesn't matter, it's  _fine_. Rooster-head needs a bandaid though, if you couldn't tell."

Kuroo can't even take offense to something he knows is true, but also because Tsukishima's response is out as fast as a metal cable itself, or redirected lightning. "You can't keep doing this. You're the one who wanted us to lay low in the first place."

Daishou's gaze is a challenge, and Kuroo is almost glad he's there, if only to prevent the bomb from going off. "I meant from unavoidable situations. They approached  _me_."

Then, his next words are like a sword, and Tsukishima flinches when it's driven home. "Unlike you, I won't be pushed around."

Daishou slams the door shut without another word. It's forceful enough to rattle some of the things hanging on the walls, decorative ceremonial masks, wood moon carvings, ancestral spearheads, and a number of others.

Tsukishima sighs, loud and conflicted as he stares down at his own shoes. Kuroo can't help but follow the gaze, meeting the fur of the rug, lined with blue. For the first time, he notices how Tsukishima stands out in his own home, as if he'd been dropped there out of nothing.

The greens and olives of his clothes clash completely with the myriad of water tribe artifacts littered throughout the home. From the bowls and cups left on the coffee table, to the coasters and hand-woven blankets. Violets, cerulean...no green.

Even next to Daishou, he looks totally removed.

Finally, Tsukishima looks at him, and Kuroo catches his breath. The blond glances at his arm, motioning for Kuroo to sit down on the couch. "Wait here, I'll get the first aid kit."

And again, Kuroo can't refuse.

The first thing he notices is Tsukishima's care, the meticulousness with which he seems to do everything. From something as simple as folding a washcloth for a basin of water, or lining up the various gauzes and bandages he plans to use, every movement has a purpose. He flows, and any change is seamless.

Tsukishima bandages Kuroo up slowly, disinfecting where the cable cut deep and doing his best to not cause any more discomfort than necessary. Kuroo is grateful, but he can't help but wonder...

"Sorry Daishou couldn't stick around to heal you with his waterbending," Tsukishima says, glaring at the roll of bandages. "Not that he's ever been particularly good at it..."

Kuroo tries not to startle; can Tsukishima read minds or something?

"O-oh no, it's no trouble," Kuroo says, noting the frustration in Tsukishima's eyes. He also takes in the betrothal necklace from up close for the first time. The seashells really are well crafted, and he can't exactly imagine Daishou having crafted something so cute. He assumes it's his anyways. "I'm just glad I could help him."

"You shouldn't have had to..." Tsukishima's eyes gloss over as he cuts another bandage, and Kuroo's own shoulders sink a little. The blond's emotions are well hidden, but Kuroo's always been adept at picking them out, and Tsukishima's are especially infectious.

Kuroo can only assume it's from worry for his betrothed.

"Doesn't matter," Kuroo reassures. "It's terrible what they're doing to you all in this city, it's not right, no matter how much Daishou argued with them."

Tsukishima pauses in what he's doing, and it's the first stilted motion Kuroo has ever seen from him. The surprise is more than noticeable as he looks up at Kuroo, and damn, does he really look like that much of a dick?

Kuroo laughs awkwardly. "Hey, just because I'm a metalbender doesn't mean I'm on their side."

Then, Tsukishima snaps out of it, and a blush blooms across the bridge of his nose. It's...nice, and way better than the frown from before.

"No...I didn't--I know that. It's just, not a lot of people feel that way," Tsukishima recovers, and Kuroo smiles pitifully. He doesn't really know what he can do besides that; things are hell right now, and it'll probably get worse before it gets better.

"Yeah, well...I don't." He offers that, as if it matters, but Tsukishima seems to appreciate it. He nods, and lets the silence envelop them once again.

Kuroo takes to analyzing the room, and fixates briefly on the paintings on the wall. They're gorgeous, barely held in place by a few crooked nails. Landscapes, done in oil of the sprawling wilderness of the North Pole. Glaciers so tall Kuroo can barely imagine standing before one, ocean as far as the eye can see, the snowy ground barely giving way to the mosses and lichens beneath.

"Wow," Kuroo breathes, and Tsukishima looks up, following his stare. If Kuroo didn't know any better, he'd call that expression wistful. Tsukishima exhales, the smallest of smiles upturning his lips as he hums. That’s not a look of someone ashamed of where he’s from, this isn’t the home of someone who tries to hide it.

It gives Kuroo the in he needs. "Why did you guys move here? I mean, it seems like a bad time for waterbenders to be coming into the city."

Tsukishima's hands falter a bit as they finish wrapping Kuroo up, and he almost feels bad for taking the fondness from his smile. Kuroo mutters a quiet thanks as he pulls his arm away, assessing the treatment. Clean, perfect. 

"We moved here before we knew," Tsukishima sighs eventually, leaning against the couch. His hands dig into the fur lining the floor. "Otherwise we would've never. I'm not even a waterbender, but it's...been annoying."

Annoying doesn't even cover half of it, but sometimes denial is best. Kuroo doesn't press anymore about the move, it's not his place. More than that, he feels if he tries to encroach upon that territory anymore, he'll surely get hacked up by barbed wire.

It's not his place to wonder why Tsukishima and Daishou would stay in the city. Expenses were a thing, among other reasons. But it bothers Kuroo, how happy Tsukishima looked when glancing at that painting, how detailed and decorated the inside of his home is.

Why hadn't they just stayed in the North?

Kuroo bites his tongue, and he thinks he might bleed.

He of all people, is the last person who should be judging.

So instead, he claps his hands on his knees awkwardly, and Tsukishima's head perks up at the movement. "Sooooo....how long have you and Daishou been together?"

It's a normal question, Kuroo thinks. Like asking about an occupation or family, but from the way Tsukishima's face twists, it's as if Kuroo asked him if he'd ever voluntarily be chipped.

The noise which comes out of Tsukishima's mouth is choked, at best. He turns around on the floor to better face Kuroo, his hands trying to do...something. As if they can communicate better than his mouth, and it's the first time Kuroo finds he doesn't look in control.

It...he likes it. A lot, and he has to fight back an outright cackle as Tsukishima's mouth hangs open uselessly. Maybe he's trying to vomit, but his brain can't even work enough to do that.

"W-wha..." Tsukishima shuts his eyes tight, swallowing down another pang of displeasure. " _Why_  would you think that?"

He can't possibly think others wouldn't assume the same. They live together and seem rather close, plus...

Kuroo's eyes flick down to Tsukishima's betrothal necklace, and the blond gets the message before Kuroo asks. That delicate hand flies to the pendant, as if he'd forgotten it was there at all.

"Is...is it not from him?" Kuroo asks, hoping he didn't accidentally step on some sort of landmine. Maybe he needed to go out more, all those social skills he'd spent his teenage years accumulating have all but faded.

Tsukishima gradually removes his hand from his necklace, shaking his head. It moves from the motion, gleaming in the low light. It really is stunning. "No,  _yes_. I mean--it is. But we're not together."

Kuroo feels some kind of weight lift off his shoulders, and he doesn't get why.

Tsukishima tucks his legs into himself, obscuring the necklace from Kuroo's view, and finally gives Kuroo the answer to some of his questions. "It was an arranged marriage, he had to and I just...I've worn it for so long...it's more like jewelry now I guess."

Kuroo wonders if that's true. He doesn't know much about waterbenders, but he knows those necklaces are a big deal. To take away the significance of it....well, maybe Tsukishima just doesn't see things that way.

For now, Kuroo accepts it, and fixates on what such a thing could mean.

Running out on an arranged marriage? Seemed like a pretty good reason to move. Good thing Kuroo didn't pry.

Kuroo tries to keep his face neutral, but from Tsukishima defeated frown, he doubts he succeeds. It wasn't in their control, they didn't want to move, but it was either that or...

Yeah.

But why stay together? Why here?

Tsukishima doesn't give him a chance to ask. He stands making his way towards the door as he closes the first aid kit quickly. "Anyways, you'll have to ignore him. He's never been the most welcoming."

Kuroo can feel the roll of his eyes without seeing them, and he laughs. "He'll warm up to me eventually."

Tsukishima snorts, sending Kuroo a look of smug disbelief. "Keep telling yourself that."

It makes Kuroo smirk back easily, and the unforced banter is something he hasn't had in a long time. It's comfortable, for the most part. The confidence with which Tsukishima says it though...it still leaves gaps into what he and Daishou are, and Kuroo can only hope he can one day find out.

For now, he takes his bandaged arm and opens Tsukishima's door, thanking him one more time for his kindness.

Tsukishima hums, leaning against the door frame. The blues in the background clash with him, but Kuroo thinks it still works somehow.

Kuroo stuffs his hands into his pockets, walking backwards out the door, like he doesn't want to look away from the image just yet. No matter how many answers he doesn't have, he doesn't regret the night. "I hope I'll see you around?"

He hates how it comes out as a question; he feels like a shy little boy again, not wanting to bulldoze, not wanting to take things for himself. He wants to see Tsukishima again, and he doesn't know why, but he can't find it in himself to admit it aloud.

Luckily, Tsukishima doesn't crush all his hopes.

"Yeah, me too," the blond mumbles, bowing his head, and Kuroo wonders if he's just as shy. It's a refreshing realization, and Kuroo grins, too bright and too loud even after Tsukishima closes the door, bidding him goodnight.

There's a spring in his step, and a dull ache in his arm, but he doesn't dwell on either of them.

As Kuroo walks off down the street, the urge to look back is too strong, and when he does, he finds all the lights in Tsukishima's home have disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'll see you all next week ;)
> 
> Come yell at me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	3. the shallows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo I'm back! I don't think I'll ever get tired of updating this fic bc it's so fun to write lol, so I hope you enjoy! Also make sure to thank the lovely [chiaramartinelliart](https://chiaramartinelliart.tumblr.com/) for the pieces you see today! I love that I can finally post some of the art I commissioned for this fic, it's beautiful ; ;
> 
> Thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

Things are luckily quieter the next week, and Kuroo starts work bright and early in the shipyards, breaking down old crates and loading new ones. His wound has mostly healed, and it feels great to zone out in his work, twisting metal rails and moving beams.

Alongside him are a crew of waterbenders, and he's grateful they aren't hiding as much anymore. The fear is palpable, but so is the resistance. He never anticipated waterbenders to be so stubborn, but he won't complain.

They're all still on edge, and every screech of tires makes them jump from fear of cops, but otherwise, work flows as expected. On his lunch break, Kuroo watches the fishermen as they create a whirlpool with slow, collective movements, pulling up swarms of fish.

It's lovely, calming. The continuous movements are lulling too, and Kuroo feels himself fading.

He wonders how anyone could possibly suspect these people. Yes, bloodbending is possible but...Kuroo doesn't understand that either. Waterbenders always seem like such easy going, nurturing people. One bad egg doesn't change that. Granted, Kuroo doesn't personally know many of them, but they only seem to be offensive when they have to be.

If anything, he hears they're snooty, but that's mostly in the north, with their grand palaces and organized politics. He can kind of understand that, after meeting Daishou. But even then, there's a fiery temper there which shocks Kuroo more than anything.

Watching the slow, careful movements of waterbenders now, he can't imagine how Daishou fits in.

But Daishou surely is the worst he's seen, and Kuroo can't see him committing a murder either. It's taught in schools that waterbenders are the bringers of change, not violence, and Kuroo has never had a reason to doubt that.

He doesn't get to dwell on that anymore though, and the universe seems keen on slapping Kuroo in the face with every preconceived notion.

The radio they have sitting on the ledge of the boat, reporting the headlines, probending scores, and breaking news throughout the day, blares loudly. The current story on Triple Threat conspiracy is cut off by an announcer, and everyone nearby halts as his voice rings through their surroundings.

"New discovery out of downtown, a fourth body has been found in the lower east district," the announcer rushes out, and Kuroo feels his body freeze. "Police are looking further into the scene as we speak, but crime scene and cause of death seem consistent with that of the dock bloodbender."

Kuroo hears water splash back down violently as the fishermen react, but he keeps his eyes trained on the radio. Besides, if he feels fearful, he can only imagine what they must be experiencing.

"The victim is reported to be a firebender, again unrelated to the first three victims. The police will update the public as details come out, but for now, there's no discernible pattern. City-wide curfew will remain in place, and President Washijo has called for increased patrols near the docks and the Yue Bay village. In other news, Avatar Atsumu has yet to make a statement, as the tensions around the new Fire Lord coronation escalate. Stay tuned for more."

Water Tribe areas, of course.

"It's never going to end, is it?" One of the workers, Alisa, stutters out. She sinks into the water around her, and several others crowd around her. She's usually so happy, so upbeat, and if she falls under this pressure...

There's not much hope for the rest of them. Kuroo can't stand to see her cry, but it's the least of their worries. In the distance, he can hear sirens, and although the sun still sits high up in the sky, the waterbenders look ready to cut and run.

Kuroo can't blame them.

He springs into action, remembering the line-up of waterbenders from the previous week, chipped and powerless. All the protests, the markets, which have barely reopened--

_The markets._

Oh no.

So many faces flash in his mind. Asahi, Daishou,  _Tsukishima_. A plethora of others.

Kuroo is off the dock without realizing, knee deep in water because going around would've been too much trouble, would've taken too long.

Semi, one of the lead workers, fixes his fellow waterbenders with a hard look. He'll stick out painfully in the streets, parka bright blue and beautifully patterned.

"I think it's best we all go home," Semi tells them all, and no one questions him. The hidden meaning rings loud and clear: get out of here.

Kuroo looks out at the shipyard, at how behind this puts them, but none of it matters. He bids goodbye to Semi with a nod of good luck before they're running in opposite directions, Kuroo's feet carrying him to the markets as fast as they can.

\--

It's as Kuroo fears, but not as bad as he would've thought.

After the news broke, he'd expect tensions to escalate, for more protesters to pour out of the woodwork. Several stalls are turned over, and he finds Tsukishima and Daishou trying their best to help Asahi fix his own.

The tables are collapsed, and some fish and ice litter the asphalt, and Kuroo grimaces from the waste as he trots over.

More than the tables, the tent is shredded, the poles twisted. It's a fruitless effort to mend, but it's hard to let things lie this way. Maybe it's why Daishou is trying his best to bring the tables back up, despite the stall's contents spread out on the floor. Kuroo winces as he passes a few more stands, the fronts of them defaced with graffiti, and he jogs faster to reach Asahi's.

The nonbender notices him first, eyes widening in grateful surprise. "Kuroo!"

Kuroo smiles, and doesn't hesitate bend the metal poles back into place, straightening out the warped legs of the table with a few quick movements of his arms. He's sorry he wasn't here faster, but this is the least he can do. He looks up, and Tsukishima's eyes no longer steal his ability to move. They ground him now, an anchor. "Are you all okay?"

Daishou can't even be bothered to look displeased with Kuroo's arrival, he just sighs and nods, sweeping up some of the debris.

"Some protesters swept through here, but it was fast," Asahi says, picking up a few of the unharmed crates. "They didn't hurt us..."

_Thank goodness._

Even still, the "but" which goes unsaid hangs in the air.  _But everything is awful._

Yeah.

Kuroo doesn't have much more to offer; he rests a hand on Asahi's forearm, gripping tight and trying to communicate all his deepest apologies with the one touch. Asahi's eyes don't burn as bright as usual, but he smiles anyways, no matter how tired he seems.

Kuroo gets to work, getting most of the steel debris cleared away. The bending takes his mind off of it, something as natural as taking deep breaths. He plants his feet, pivoting every now and again as the shrapnel and metal float around him in a cohesive wave until they're either discarded or put back in their rightful place.

It's not much, and the place is still a mess, but it's something.

It's at this moment, when Asahi is off to load up his truck with the surviving fish, and Daishou is sweeping up, that Kuroo feels eyes on his back. And oh, he already knows exactly who it is.

It's a shock to him too though, to see how wide Tsukishima's eyes are. Kuroo freezes, it's instinct. Maybe he's done something wrong, or worst case, there's a spider the size of the Earth Kingdom on his back. Anything is possible really.

But no, when he follows Tsukishima's gaze, it's on the small slab of metal which Kuroo has suspended in the air.

He drops it immediately, suddenly,  _stupidly_  self-conscious, and curses himself for it as the slab clangs to the floor. He's not the one who'd been staring, so why oh why did his brain have to do this to him?

Clearing his throat in a poor attempt at recovery, Kuroo puts his hands stiffly at his side. "W-what? You knew I was a metalbender..."

And  _not_  a police officer. It could be that it brings back bad memories, but...

Tsukishima blinks, once at the slab, and once at Kuroo before that blush is back, like he'd completely zoned out. "No I--I mean I  _did_ , just...I've never gotten to see metalbending up close before. I'm not Daishou, I haven't had run ins with the police."

"Fuck off," Daishou mutters, violently sweeping a fish head into the gutter. Charming.

Tsukishima thinks so too, because he completely ignores him. "And I've never been to Zaofu."

And regardless of Kuroo's buried feelings, the name brings a fond look to his face. His mind flashes with towering metal domes, railways, gleaming buildings. Zaofu is beautiful, he'll never deny that.

It must show, because Tsukishima is staring far too intently again. Alright, maybe Kuroo lied before, he's not used to it. "Yeah well, it used to be my home."

Tsukishima's eyes waver at the mention of home, as if waiting for more, but Kuroo isn't ready to give that. Not here, not after all this time. He clears his throat, lifting the slab back up with a wave of his hands, because at least this way he doesn't have to meet that honey-brown gaze. He just might break under it. "If you get a chance to go, I think you definitely should."

And he means that, truly he does.

When Kuroo looks back, Tsukishima is smiling at him, really smiling, and something in his heart jumps. It's too much right then, on top of everything, and he's actually grateful when Daishou interrupts.

"Sales are totally shot today, all that work for nothing," the waterbender spits, kicking at the crushed ice on the ground. "Not only that, there's no leftovers for dinner, and the budget doesn't exactly favor eating out right now..."

Tsukishima grimaces at the words, and Kuroo understands all too well. Dock hours are scattered and unstable right now for everyone, but waterbenders must have it far worse. Especially when less understanding shipping companies have started to let them go.

With this new murder, it'll just be rougher out there.

However, Kuroo's inheritance is nothing to overlook, and yet he barely touches it. He doesn't need to, for he lives a surprisingly simple life. His biggest splurges are actually on food, so he thinks the least he can do is offer to treat some hungry souls.

"Why don't you guys come grab something with me," Kuroo says, and he can pinpoint the exact moment Daishou is about to refuse. He's quicker this time. "I have to repay you for taping me up that one time anyways."

Daishou shuts his mouth, and Kuroo tries not to look too smug. The day when Daishou actually swallows his pride and attitude is one Kuroo is convinced will never come, which is why the waterbender's next words nearly send him falling onto his ass.

"Listen...ugh... _thanks_  or whatever, for the help," Daishou grits out, as if it physically  _pains_  him, and even Tsukishima's jaw drops. "But I can't take much more of the city today. I'm going home and taking the mother of all naps."

Then, without finesse, Daishou shoves the broom into Tsukishima's hands, resigned. Kuroo can't exactly blame him, it would take a team to clean all this up, and the reality of it is just too painful.

He and Tsukishima watch as Daishou walks off, uncaring if even the blond follows him, and Kuroo thinks he prefers the surly version of him to this beaten down one.

Tsukishima bites his lip, and his frown is back as he watches Daishou walk off, conflicted and forlorn in ways Kuroo wishes he could mend. Deadly or not, he likes when Tsukishima smiles way more.

The only thing Kuroo can think of is to offer a distraction, and he extends his invitation again. "How about it then, you and me?"

Strangely, he likes the sound of it.

Tsukishima's face warps with hesitance as his lithe fingers wrap around the broom, but Kuroo knows his final blow will work. He's almost proud of himself, and he smiles as he delivers it. "I know a good place that serves Water Tribe food."

He's never tried it of course, but there's a first time for everything. Anything to make Tsukishima look like  _this_  all the time.

The hesitation dissolves, and Tsukishima's eyes light up so bright, they're blinding.

\--

Kuroo is not _just_ impressed. That would be a severe understatement for how he feels right then. He watches in amazement as Tsukishima devours his weight (and probably more than that) in sea crab and arctic hen, like he’s ravenous.

Turns out this place had been a good idea after all.

He watches, smirk hidden, as Tsukishima slurps up his second bowl of seaweed noodles, and wonders how someone so skinny can possibly fit all that food into his stomach. Maybe it's just because it reminds him of home, and it makes Kuroo stare down into his soup as the wave of nostalgia hits him.

He can relate; he can't remember the last time he ate things which didn't derive from his grandma's recipes.

Kuroo never bothered to try Water Tribe food in fact, but it's shockingly becoming a fast favorite. Tentacle soup and seaweed jerky don't exactly sound appetizing on their own, nor do they look pretty, but the smell from the kitchen wafted in, bringing heaven with it. Heavily spiced and tender, the flavors danced across his tongue from the first bite, and more than that...

They warmed him, in some weird, inexplicable way. He supposes it would make sense, living in such chilling conditions, but he thinks it's deeper than that. He remembers his school lessons again, the note about the Water Tribe's unparalleled sense of community and family, and thinks about how it somehow transfers into their food.

He's full, his skin is warm, and the low lights of the restaurant create a halo around Tsukishima's head which he can't help but fixate on. It could lull him to sleep, if he let it, but Tsukishima is far too interesting for that.

“Never tell him I said this, but I think Daishou’s broth is actually better,” Tsukishima mutters, so reluctant it makes Kuroo snort into his tea. At least Tsukishima finds it amusing.

“That guy can _cook_?” Kuroo asks in disbelief. It’s like a horror story almost, but Tsukishima’s nod is all too serious. There’s a twinkle of mischief there too, and Kuroo doesn’t need to pry for details for Tsukishima to give them.

The guy hides a lot, and it’s obvious he keeps to himself, but where his tribe is concerned? It seems he can go on and on.

“You’d be surprised,” Tsukishima says with an amused huff. “He’s so stubborn, doesn’t matter what it is. When we were kids, one of our classmates cooked a better dish than him for our community potluck, and ever since then he’s had a pole up his butt in the kitchen. Apparently anyways.”

Kuroo can’t linger on the ‘apparently’ when he’s laughing so hard. The image of Daishou in a chef’s hat flies to the front of his brain, and all hope for his lungs is lost.

Tsukishima seems to be in the same bought, but food wins over, and he smothers the laugh with three more rolls of bread. Kuroo wonders if there’s a word for how cozy this feels.

While he waits for Tsukishima to have his fill, he inhales, taking in the scent of smoked puffin-seal and crawfish boils that carry through the restaurant. He worries if he stays too long, his appetite might return, but he figures that's okay. He's been having a good time with Tsukishima; the comfortable silences and whispered jokes make Kuroo smile more in this one night than he has in months.

Seems he keeps racking up debts to the blond, and he's perfectly okay with that.

Tsukishima sighs as he brings a bowl of broth down from his face, and his cheeks are flushed from the heat he'd so bravely endured, too impatient to wait for the meal to cool. It's unbearably endearing, and Kuroo grins as Tsukishima licks his lips.

It certainly makes the scar on his arm worth it.

For a while, Tsukishima just smiles at the table, the legs carved with patterns of waves and seashells. His fists play with the tassels of the table cloth, and it matches the tapestries which shroud the walls, the blues bathing the entire establishment in tribal splendor. It's the first time Kuroo has really taken the time to appreciate it.

_Beautiful_ , he thinks, and the looks in Tsukishima eyes when he finally raises them says much of the same. "I missed this."

It's so quiet Kuroo can barely hear the blond's voice over the constant chatter of the booths around them, but it sends a shiver up his spine. It sounds almost defeated, like Tsukishima had been trying his best to not admit it. There's guilt laced there, and a longing Kuroo knows all too well.

Tsukishima's eyes fall again, down to the nicks in the table, and he scratches at the worn grooves with a faraway look.

Kuroo figures now is as good of a time as any to ask.

He sighs, pushing his bowl away so he can lean his arms against the table. He tries to keep his voice sensitive, curious. "Can I ask you why you didn't move to the South first? I mean I know it's not the same as the North but...they take northern exiles all the time, and at least it would be familiar..."

He bites his tongue after that, and thinks he might've gone too far. Is it ignorant to suggest? He doesn't know enough to say.

However, Tsukishima just sighs again, and props his head on his hand. "It's going to sound childish, but I felt like...if we moved somewhere too similar, I'd feel just as homesick. The South isn't a permanent replacement for the North, and it would only remind me of...everything we lost."

Kuroo listens, attention rapt, and he doesn't dare interrupt. He lets Tsukishima vent, because he doubts Daishou is the type, and Kuroo wants to understand.

He hasn't wanted to hear someone talk like this in a long time, and it dawns on him that he's lived in solitude for quite a while. It's been nice, but...

_This_ , this he's missed.

Frustrated, Tsukishima glares at the spread of food in front of him, and then out the window at the bustling streets. Right. They're in Republic City, not a cozy hut in the Northern Water Tribe. It must sting, and Kuroo can't tell where the blond's anger is directed. His eyes say the city, but the words...

"But this place isn't any better," Tsukishima hisses, and his mouth trembles. "I feel the same, and I can't even use the spirit portals to visit. I feel as good as banished."

That makes Kuroo perk up. Banishment...even in today's era, it's no joke. Reserved for only the harshest of offenses, to compare Tsukishima's plight with it...

"Was your marriage really that big of a deal?" Kuroo asks, he can't help it. Tsukishima is reluctant to even go back for a  _visit_  for fear of being seen, that's something.

Tsukishima seems startled, but Kuroo blames that on his abruptness, and the blond recovers quickly. "Oh....well, Daishou is--was a noble, so yeah I guess you could say it was a big deal. The North's customs have progressed sure, but for the chief's family and the elite, people are fairly traditional. There's no way we wouldn't be judged."

_Ah, a noble huh?_

Kuroo can't help but laugh, and Tsukishima's brow arches cutely at the ugly sound. "Daishou as an elite...sounds fitting for that attitude of his."

Tsukishima's mouth opens and closes, and for a minute Kuroo thinks he might've offended him. After all, he assumes they  _are_ friends, maybe Tsukishima is protective.

Ah, but no.

A second later, Tsukishima's trying to hold back an equally horrendous laugh, and he claps a hand over his mouth. He looks downright evil, and his eyes shine with mischief Kuroo didn't think him capable of. There's more sides to Tsukishima than he realizes, but the one laughing his ass off without a care in the world...

Kuroo feels like a champion for bringing him out.

Coughing lightly, Tsukishima takes a sip of his tea to drown the rest of his snickers. "I'm pretty sure he'd be that way no matter what.  _Prick_..."

Kuroo smirks, but appreciates the fond edge to the insult. Daishou and Tsukishim's relationship is still a mystery, but it's genuine.

The mention of the waterbender brings Kuroo's attention to the necklace around Tsukishima's neck, the only Water Tribe thing about him, and plucks up the courage to ask the thing that's really been bugging him.

"So wait, if you love your tribe so much, why the Earth Kingdom getup?" Kuroo asks, and once again, Tsukishima offers little resistance after his initial pause. Although, Kuroo can tell he's thinking long and hard about his answers, so maybe he's not ready to spill so much detail to Kuroo quite yet.

"Mm, my mother was from Omashu, one of my father's year long flings," Tsukishima says with a scoff. At the mention of his family, Kuroo's ears open wider. "When she left us, she left some of her clothes along with her. I'm told she was tall, so...perfect fit I guess."

Tsukishima's nose scrunches up, and there's a displeasure laced in his tone as he picks at the threads of his tunic. Guess he doesn't care for the clothes as much as he wears them.

"Anyways, I figured with how bad my people have it here, it would be better to hide," Tsukishima whispers, glancing around at the other patrons. The sadness pulls at Kuroo's heart, as he watches Tsukishima stare longingly at the blue and violet dresses the other patrons wear, lined with the signature fur of both tribes.

All he can think is that he's sorry, but he gets it. If he were in Tsukishima's position, he might do the same, though it would cut him up inside.

Bravely, Kuroo reaches across the table, touching Tsukishima's forearm. His hand still feels too intimate, but the blond flinches at the touch anyways. His skin is cold to the touch, like the snowy plains he hails from.

"That's terrible," Kuroo whispers back, somewhat to himself, and it's so pathetic he wants to cringe. But he stays strong, because that's what Tsukishima does everyday, when he pulls on the olive colored hood. "But...I don't think anyone would fault you."

_I certainly don't._

Instead of the smile he's growing to long for, Kuroo gets closed eyes and a huff of frustration, and Tsukishima's hands curl into fists. "Daishou thinks it's shameful," he states, and it hurts Kuroo even more. Tsukishima isn't fishing for Kuroo to disagree, to defend his actions or take pity on him.

He's not complaining in the slightest.

No, part of him  _agrees_ , and Kuroo's grip on the blond's arm tightens. For whatever reason, he can't stand that, won't tolerate it.

With as much conviction as he can, Kuroo speaks, no hesitation. "Well, I think you're brave."

He lets it hang in the air, and doesn't move away. He won't break until the blond does, and can only pray the message one day gets through to him.

Tsukishima's eyes soften, and it's enough for now.

\--

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161125444@N06/45641765074/in/dateposted-public/)

Avatar Atsumu Square shines like a flame in the darkest of nights, a beacon along the edge of Yue Bay. Kuroo doesn't often get to walk through the flea markets which operate under the huge statue of the current Avatar, but it's always a pleasure when he can.

Everything is bathed in the reds and golds of the square's decor, and Kuroo breathes in the fresh air as the warmth of the fire radiates off the torches which line all the walkways.

Avatar Atsumu's statue is built out of some refined, reddish steel, and Kuroo knows for a fact a group of highly experienced metalbenders must've been commissioned for it. It's lifelike in its stance, in its construction. The lines of the statue's body run so smooth, capturing the Avatar's likeness in such an impressive way, even down to the mischievous spark ever-present in the young Avatar's eyes. Around him, four large torches sit at each corner of the base, dancing onto the statue and illuminating him for all the square to see.

Kuroo likes to think it's never truly nighttime here, because everything blazes bright like the sun.

Tsukishima marvels at it as they pass by, the flames vibrant. Kuroo has to stop Tsukishima from reaching out to touch.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161125444@N06/45641765484/in/dateposted-public/)

"I always found firebending very fascinating," Tsukishima says as they walk, peering into tents and browsing the stands of trinkets and jewelry.

_Psh_.

Kuroo, thinking his skills are being threatened, scoffs. "So what, they can burn stuff. Earth and metal are where it's at," he proclaims proudly, and Tsukishima rolls his eyes. "For real though! Watch this!"

Okay, this is a trait of his which he'll gladly accept, even if it  _is_  a stereotype. Kuroo loves to show off, as any metalbender does, and who can blame them? The things they can do, can create...

They're stunning, and the possibilities are endless. Much more reliable in a pinch than  _fire_. No offense to the Avatar.

Or Yamaguchi.

Beyond them, Kuroo didn't much care for people disagreeing with his takes.

He pulls Tsukishima to one of the grassy sections of the square, and excitedly beckons Tsukishima to stay put as he backs up into the center where he has room. Tsukishima tilts his head, and the intrigue is hard to miss.

Good.

The metal belt around Kuroo’s waist melts off of him, and Kuroo watches Tsukishima's reaction, delighted at the surprise and awe which crosses his face.

He tries not to smirk but it's hard.

See, the belt is mostly for show, he doesn't need it. Call it an accessory, a particularly malleable accessory. The metal is of a different quality than his cuffs or his necklace; it's dark and runny, like dough rather than metal, more shapeable. It's what beginning metalbenders practice with, since it's soft, but it has many other uses.

Liiiike impressing Tsukishima, perhaps.

It's simple trick; lots of his friends in high school would use it to impress girls, or they'd resort to bending the metal into stars and hearts. While those are good options, Kuroo thinks it's fun, and not much else.

For the first time, he actually feels nervous.

As he moves as gracefully as he can, and it's only partly for the flair. This metal behaves differently than harsh steel and slabs, and far freer than rock. He loves all forms, but the harsh punches and rigid stances of earthbending always pushed him more towards leaning on metal as a resource. It's closer to home, and it breathes reinvention, something he's chased for so long now.

His arms move at his sides in continuous rotations, hand lifting above his head every now and again to get the flow going, until the metal is spinning around him like some sort of hoop. He thinks he hears Tsukishima gasp, but he doesn't let himself search for his reaction. He gets lost in this, bending the dark material to his will.

He pivots, and slows his movements until the hoop expands, and dips his hand into it as if it were fountain water. He keeps his arms steady until the stream spins at an angle, an ellipse. When he was younger, he liked to think it was like creating his own personal orbit.

He still feels that way.

Kuroo can't help it, he begins to spin along with it, hands chasing the flow of the metal until his head starts to blur, and he touches his fists together, calling the metal back into one single, solid form.

It hardens beneath his fingertips, but he thinks it'll always feel light to him.

Now, instead of goo, it looks like nothing more than a shinier lump of coal, and Kuroo chuckles at his own comparison. With some regret, he fashions it back into an armband this time.

He remembers his audience afterwards, maybe a little too late, and tries to fight the blush on his face as the last few moments play over in his head. He has nothing to be humiliated about, nothing went wrong, and yet…

He lifts his head slowly, hesitant to gauge Tsukishima's reaction, if there even is one.

Oh, but boy is there one.

Tsukishima doesn't necessarily  _rush_  over, but there's an urgency in his steps, his eyes sparkling with an amazement Kuroo isn't sure he'll actually voice.

"How...what..." he whispers instead, almost to himself as he grabs Kuroo's wrist, one hand gripping the hard steel while the other skims over his armband. He's looking for a difference, Kuroo realizes, some sort of trick, and it makes him smile giddily.

"Cool huh?" he asks, and refrains from saying 'way cooler than fire,' even if it is true.

Tsukishima huffs a disbelieving laugh, gaze still trained on the trinkets. "It's...it's kind of like waterbending."

That makes the metaphorical record player in Kuroo's head scratch.

Waterbending?

Kuroo laughs, confused as he looks down at his own arm. "What makes you say that?"

After all, waterbending is...waterbending. Slow, push-pull motions. Yes, metalbending can be graceful, but it's still a subset of earth. Stubborn, harsh, and he can't imagine where Tsukishima might draw the comparison.

"The movements are kind of similar, they could probably trade teachings," Tsukishima mused, and Kuroo shivers from the way those fingers ghost over the muscles of his forearm. The explanation does nothing to clear up his loss.

He says as much. "Isn't waterbending like...you know?"

Kuroo then tries to do a very poor imitation of what he's seen from healers and street performers, his arms waving in jagged, unrefined motions that he knows look nothing close to what he's imagining.

Kuroo at least hopes his general point comes across in his slow, gentle motions. He could definitely see the influence metal could have on waterbending, but surely it can't be that simple?

Tsukishima gives him the most unimpressed look Kuroo has ever seen, and Kuroo has never felt so small.

It's a good kind though, the kind which tells him there's more still for him to learn.

Tsukishima places himself by Kuroo's side, and Kuroo can see the barely concealed laugh threatening his lips.  _Hey_ …

Then, Kuroo becomes nothing more than a puppet. Tsukishima is gripping his wrists and scooting his legs apart, readjusting his stance until it's exactly how he wants it to be. It's less wide than he's used to, but he supposes that's not uncommon for waterbending. Not that he knows much, apparently.

Kuroo is impressed by Tsukishima's knowledge too, but the blond is prepared for his curious gaze. "I've seen Daishou do this move a few times, so I'm not sure if it's completely right, but..."

Tsukishima bites his lip, and Kuroo has too look away for some reason. There's heat crawling up the back of his neck, but he doesn't dare block out the sound of Tsukishima's voice. "If you used movements like these, you could probably figure out how to direct liquid metal smoothly."

Kuroo's interest intensifies. Redirection? "Like lightning?"

Ah, so back to firebending then, not waterbending. Or so he thinks.

Tsukishima doesn't waste time in poking Kuroo's forehead, a stern teaching tool. " _Yes_ , but even that technique came from waterbending. It's one of their main strategies. An offense and a defense all at once."

The marvel in Tsukishima's voice is hard to miss, as is the wistfulness. As a nonbender, Tsukishima can't embrace his culture in  _every_  way, Kuroo guesses. But he still seems to know enough, and Kuroo is grateful. His eyes are trained on Tsukishima as he assumes the same stance as Kuroo, repeating the move several times.

First, the arm extends out in front of him pulls back and over his head without stopping, like he's receiving the brunt of the enemy's attack. Then, the arm circles back down past Tsukishima's waist, his fist curling as it resumes the starting position.

A set of easy, quick movements, but obviously Kuroo knows there's more to it. If someone shoots a powerful attack his way, it'll take equal strength to redirect it, and make it act for his own will.

The idea excites him beyond all belief, the image of dark metal curling around him. Tsukishima is right; it can't be much harder than getting the orbit spinning around him, it just involves taking in some more metal from the outside. When he looks at it that way, it feels less intimidating.

The closest thing to this in metalbending is stopping the opponent's projectile and morphing it into something new. To full on send it back…

Kuroo takes a deep breath, copying Tsukishima's movements as best he can. It's hard not to stop in some spots, to imagine curling the metal back instead of halting it in its tracks, but as he does it, the movements flow better and better.

"That's good," Tsukishima whispers, and it's the first time he's heard praise from the blond's lips without the other running off. Kuroo bows his head, dropping his arms to his side. He doesn't want to get too lost in himself, but he does want to practice the move later, regardless of if he ever gets to use it.

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, and can't decide why he feels so warm inside. That's how he's felt with Tsukishima all night, and he almost doesn't want it to end. "Well, I'm not exactly someone who gets in a lot of fights so..."

Tsukishima inclines his head, and the looks of disbelief as he gestures to Kuroo's scarred hand is honestly unfair.

"Hey," Kuroo says, but the blush is back. "I don't normally fight police officers."

And he was by no means a probender, but...still, good to know these things.

"Hm," Tsukishima hums, slowly walking off the grass and back onto the road which will carry them home. The square's lights bounce off Tsukishima like fireflies, and this time, when Kuroo’s heart tugs at the sight, he starts to understand what that feeling means.

Dangerous, so dangerous, but Kuroo is nothing short of gleeful as he follows after the blond. Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, Fire Nation, whatever. He's beginning to think Tsukishima can pull off all of it, as the reds bounce off the blond's skin.

Or maybe that's the blush, Kuroo realizes, and it makes his own spread like an unconfined torchlight. Tsukishima smiles at him, and it solidifies his heart's pleadings instantly.

Tsukishima looks down at his scar, his voice barely above a whisper. "Well, I'm glad you did."

And as they begin their short trek home in silence, Kuroo thinks about how much he agrees.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated <3 
> 
> Come scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	4. oceans between you and me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, double update! Since Tuesday next week is Christmas, I decided to skip that day and just release the chapter today! It'll be a while until the next one as a result, but hopefully this long one holds you guys over <3 
> 
> Thank you [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

From then on, it's like the floodgates open.

Kuroo finds himself at Tsukishima's side more often than not, either walking him home or helping him with the markets. Between the rainy spells and fleeting glimpses of the sun's rays through the clouds, the days begin to blend into each other like the water Tsukishima is oh so fond of.

In some ways, it’s a distraction. He can’t go anywhere without seeing police officers interviewing people minding their own business. It’s hard for Kuroo to not stop and defend every single one, or to avoid his blood boiling to a melting point. Having Tsukishima as a fixed destination, as part of his schedule…

It’s not ideal to overlook the horrors of the city, but it’s a welcome reprieve every day.

Kuroo doesn't mind. He never realized before how much of his time was spent working, or cooped up inside, but he's more than happy to embrace this routine instead. He manages to monopolize a lot of Tsukishima's time under the guise of 'protection', but they both know it's a weak excuse. Tsukishima seems to accept it though, and never bothers to call Kuroo out on it.

It's the validation he needs, and everyday becomes a new day to look forward to the blond's voice.

He runs into Daishou less and less the more Kuroo and Tsukishima spend together, but he's so wrapped up in the blond's attention he can't find it in himself to mind. The waterbender had never been particularly social anyways.

The thoughts of Tsukishima resume, as do the new worries which come with them, specifically this time around.

Kuroo's steps feel fairly heavy as he treks to the blond's house, and it's a ridiculous emotion, one he can't name beyond normal anxiety.

It's not unusual for them to hang out at bars and diners either now, he tells himself. As friends, sure, though a part of that still bugs Kuroo more than he'd like to admit.

Either way, Tsukishima is becoming part of his daily life, and he should not feel as nervous as he does when he manages to get his hands on two free probending match tickets from his workplace.

He's never been, naturally, but it feels like something exciting to do. More importantly, he knows it's something Tsukishima would  _love_. Seeing different kinds of benders duke it out is good entertainment on its own, but Kuroo knows the blond finds bending techniques fascinating (Kuroo has even picked up a few more tips from Tsukishima's book knowledge alone).

It's a no brainer who he should ask to come with him that weekend, but as he mulls over the thought on his way to Tsukishima's home, Kuroo finds himself freezing up every few seconds.

When he can finally see the blond's rickety staircase a block away, reality is too crushing.

_Shit_.

He stops, right in the middle of the sidewalk, as if he's been physically yanked back, and several people bump his shoulders in their impatience. Kuroo can't blame them, he probably deserves the shove.

Strike that, he  _knows_  he does.

Leaning against the nearest wall, the one with the least amount of stains and chewing gum stuck to it, he thinks things over for the hundredth time.

Okay. So. The probability of Tsukishima saying yes is actually quite high, Kuroo reminds himself. The blond has never turned down one of his invites before, but his palms grow clammy regardless. Dinner and coffee are normal, everyday things.

This...Is this something too date-ish?

Does Kuroo want it to be a date?

Okay, yes. He's not against acknowledging that, but he's not sure he's ready to actually  _make_  this a date. He wants to go as friends, and honestly, Tsukishima shouldn't assume any less, right?

The blond is snarky and sarcastic, but amicable enough. Still, that friendliness he extends to Kuroo doesn't spell out romance in any sense of the word.

Therefore it's dangerous territory, and Kuroo refuses to even implicate it.

Good then. So it's not a date, and Tsukishima most likely won't think it's one.

So why is Kuroo still so nervous?

He climbs the stairs, rehearsing the question so much he thinks he'll dream about it. The tickets weigh heavily in his pocket.

_'Hey, probending match, you down?'_

No, that's fucking stupid.

_'Hey so, my friend bailed on me and--'_

No ew, that's worse.

Kuroo sighs as his hand raps against the door a few times, and he looks down, noticing the lack of boots which are sometimes air drying against the mat. Guess Daishou is gone again...

The sounds of a lock clicking make Kuroo's brain dissolve into mush; it feels like the metal armband now, pliable and mushy in the right hands, more specifically, Tsukishima's hands. The blond is so powerful in ways he doesn't even know, and Kuroo's heart gives a traitorous thump when the blond reveals himself.

He opens the door cautiously, one eye glaring out from behind the wood. When he sees it's Kuroo, that wariness dissolves in an instant, and the door swings open. Kuroo feels just a bit proud about that.

And when he sees Tsukishima in full, even that fades away.

He's...a sight, always is, and Kuroo's vocabulary fails him.

The blond is still modeling Earth Kingdom wear, but with the usual wintery spin, and Kuroo now knows where that comes from. Hiding or not, the influence of the Water Tribes never leaves the blond completely. His coat is longer, dark green and tied as tight as possible.

It's a particularly cold day, and Kuroo tries not to smile at the reddish hue on Tsukishima's cheeks and nose. Guess he still gets cold easily, no matter how much of his life was spent in the snow.

The urge to offer his own coat for extra warmth is even more aggressive than his need to smile, and he stuffs his hands into his pockets to prevent it.

Then, his fingertips graze the edge of the tickets, and he remembers.

Kuroo doesn't know why he's considered an adult.

He draws a blank, especially as those honey-brown eyes and that content expression in front of him morph into confusion.

"Kuroo?" Tsukishima asks, and Kuroo realizes he's probably been staring for an uncomfortably long time, and he can't stop. Words are useless, but he tries.

He reaches into his pocket, and the question repeats itself again and again in his head, but too fast. He can't get a grip on it.

_'Want to go to a match with me tonight?'_

Yes, perfect, he's got it, if only he were as capable as his thoughts.

He holds the tickets out in front of him, and Tsukishima glances down curiously, so  _cutely_ , and all that manages to come out of Kuroo's mouth is a puny, pathetic "Um."

Fuck.

Tsukishima tilts his head to read the printed black ink on the side of tickets, and he processes it faster than Kuroo can remember to breathe.

Tsukishima's excitement isn't something Kuroo has seen much of, and he figures it's subdued, like the rest of the blond's reactions. Regardless, he drinks it up, cherishing it.

Tsukishima's hands snatch the tickets away, and he seems to reread again, to make sure he's not imagining things.

Maybe Kuroo doesn't need words as much as he thought.

Tsukishima looks up, eyes wide and innocent as he speaks. "Probending tickets?"

There's a breathlessness there, Kuroo picks up on the edges of it, and hell, he wishes he proposed this a week ago if Tsukishima would give him this reaction. Maybe the blond's been secretly dreaming of going, though Kuroo already knows he's not the type to admit it.

Somehow, the thought manages to plow through some of Kuroo's nerves. He manages a smile, probably too soft to be from a friend, but Tsukishima is either too excited or too uncaring to comment.

His nimble fingers clutch the tickets, as if afraid he's assumed too much and regrets it, but Kuroo crushes those worries before the blond can even utter an apology or an apathetic dismissal.

Kuroo gestures toward the road with an open palm, the one which leads right to the trolley downtown. "Feel like going with me?"

Tsukishima stares at him for a few seconds longer, and Kuroo can see the exact moment he accepts the invite as real, and his hand comes up to cover what Kuroo hopes is a smile.

Tsukishima answers by grabbing his shoes, and slamming the door shut.

\--

The crowd roars so loud the concrete bleachers shake.

Kuroo can hear everything, yet nothing, can't focus on any one noise before the next is shoving it aside, begging to be heard. Louder, louder.

Every voice blends into the next, a collection of disjointed, stuttering cheers and curses as discs fly and the referee's whistle blows. The dome shape of the stadium encases all these noises and sends them flying back like the uppercuts currently being dished out by the players in the arena.

Kuroo can't look away, and before he knows it, his voice joins the cacophony.

Feet stomp, and there's an overbearing scent of fireflakes and kettle corn filling his nostrils, but it's all irrelevant.

Tsukishima's hands are gripping the railing in front of them so tight, they have to be cramping. He's not loud like Kuroo, but his expression, as always, is the strongest sound in the area.

He doesn't just watch, he tears the scene apart, taking in each play and every attack.

Kuroo can't blame him.

Why had he never been to a match before?

With two players left, duking it out and refusing to back down for the sake of their team's fate, Kuroo can't help but think this sport is amazing.

For once, he tears his gaze away from Tsukishima's face to eye the players, not wanting to miss a thing. The slightest mistake, the smallest movement, could be the difference between winning and losing.

The setup is standard. A team of one waterbender, an earthbender, and a firebender, against another team. With such head-on match ups, Kuroo expected each round to take a bit of time.

Oh how wrong he'd been.

Teams were in the water before he could even blink. Discs and powerful blasts of fire and water flew more like airbending strikes, pure aggression and purpose locked within. He could barely follow the footwork of any one player.

With every block achieved, two hits would follow, until teams were pushed back zone by zone, with the other gaining territory and encouragement from the crowd.

Despite the rules against shots to the head, Kuroo knows any hit has to hurt like hell. He'd seen the firebender of one team get hit in the chest with two stone discs in the beginning. The blows sunk into him like cement before he was sent flying into the pool below, and he felt Tsukishima flinch beside him.

They'd been enraptured since.

Now, the zone lines flash red and the speakers blare warnings and penalties. Finally the two remaining players reach the climax of their game, and Kuroo rocks on the balls of his feet, tensions too high.

An earthbender and a waterbender; Kuroo can't deny what his expectations are.

The earthbender is about as rough and strong as one would expect, and for most of the game, he's been the powerhouse of his team.

It's why it comes as such a shock when the waterbending opponent manages to push him all the way into the last zone, conquering the entire hexagonal playing field.

It's a cliche, but Kuroo can't believe it, it's not something he ever thought possible.

He watches, stunned, as the earthbender stumbles from an almost costly blow of water. He avoids it,  _barely_. The waterbender isn't tired in the slightest as she sends another, harnessing all the water locked within the troughs below her. They're like lightning, her strikes, and when each one touches the ground or collides with an earth disc, it's like thunder.

To add insult to injury, she practically dances around the earthbender's strikes when she decides not to waste energy hitting them.

She places her hands on the ground, and the muscles hidden under her pads strain as she pushes the water forward, creating quick, deadly waves.

They can't even be penalized for being continuous, they're so fast, each blow hardly lasts more than a second.

The earthbender slows down considerably; his exhaustion shows. His shots become mismanaged and random, he's so focused on just staying alive and blocking what he can. Any of his own attacks which actually  _do_  make it within spitting distance of the waterbender are immediately crumbled to pieces with the sheer force of the stream sent to stop it.

It reminds Kuroo of waves crashing on the beach, eroding the cliffs with every passing year.

The girl sends another blow straight ahead, but before making direct contact, the earthbender ducks.

The entire stadium holds its breath. They all know.

It's all been a ploy, and the waterbender's other hand curls up into a fist, sending a stream of water from below. It curves, beautifully, and smacks the earthbender square in the jaw from where he can't even see.

Kuroo's jaw drops.

The earthbender falls like he never even stood a chance, the match decided with one last splash. Fitting.

The crowd stands to cheer as the girl performs her own celebration, jumping up and grinning like it’s the best day of her life. Kuroo can imagine; after putting up such a fight, to be rewarded must be a high one never gets tired of.

No wonder the sport is so popular.

Below, the opposing team member is fished out of the pool, but even he is met by his own comforting teammates.

Kuroo thinks he might enjoy making these matches a habit; the fire in Tsukishima's eyes is a bonus.

Even the blond gives a slow, thoughtful clap, the vaguest hint of amusement shining in his eyes as he trails the waterbender. One of Kuroo's goals in life is to get that same look directed at him, all impressed and appreciative.

The contented one Tsukishima sends him is just as good for now though. The blond leans on the railing with less intensity this time. Kuroo is his only focus.

"What did you think?" The blond asks, and as the crowd begins to disperse, Kuroo can actually make out the words the first time around.

There's something almost otherworldly, watching a chaotic space slowly be returned to its original state. The cheers die down, the lights dim, but Kuroo's blood is still rushing.

He's speechless, his mouth floundering for something,  _anything_. He grins though, his eyes flying back to where the girl and her teammates embrace each other. What he'd give to fight like that, and he probably can, but this...

It felt so  _different_.

Kuroo threads a hand through his unruly hair, shaking his head from the disbelief.

"I...never knew waterbenders could..." He begins with a laugh, but his common sense returns to him just in time. He sews his lips shut a second later, but it might be too late.

Aloud, the comment sounds rude, though he's never felt afraid of sharing his unfiltered opinions with Tsukishima from the start. There's something oddly comforting in knowing the blond will correct him if he disagrees even a little.

This is a little more personal though. Tsukishima is from the Water Tribe, and Kuroo's preconceptions might not fare well in a conversation with him, nonbender or otherwise.

"Fight?" Tsukishima asks, and the teasing in his voice has reached a new octave. Kuroo blinks from the shock as Tsukishima's brow quirks up, daring him to deny the allegation.

Ah, so Tsukishima had known what to expect from him from the start. Something about that makes Kuroo blush, coughing to cover up his slip.

Damn.

Guess there's no getting out of looking like an idiot, so better ride the wave for all it's worth.

He will correct one thing, however.

" _No_ ," he replies, crossing his arms, and he can see the blond is having trouble keeping his mouth shut to try and call Kuroo's bluff. "I didn't know they could be....so  _aggressive_ , I guess."

His petulance dies near the end, because he means it. He never would've figured waterbenders could take on opponents with a ferocity to match even the most stubborn of earthbenders.

And even then, some of the techniques they were using didn't look like waterbending.

Kuroo remembers Tsukishima's first lesson, the way he could make his metal move like water even if just for a moment.

Tsukishima laughs again, gentler this time. "I figured you'd be one of those."

Alright, now that Kuroo  _has_  to take offense to. He puts a hand on his chest, backing away, but the grin on his face is hard to scrub off. "Excuse  _you_. One of what?"

Tsukishima reaches forward, and Kuroo doesn't stop him from delivering a swift tap to the middle of his forehead. He does deserve it, in this case. "The kind who believes waterbenders are all gentle healers and hate confrontation."

Kuroo winces.

_Ouch, got me there._

Though to his credit, Kuroo is beginning to see how wrong he's been. He recalls the way Daishou sneered at the cops, or the roaring of Tsukishima's boot as it stomped on Asahi's stall.

Non-confrontational? Not a chance.

He rubs his head, smiling sheepishly as the blond waits for an answer. He could admit as much, but riling Tsukishima up is always fun, and besides...

What better way to get Tsukishima to teach him more? Kuroo isn't against shattering his own expectations, especially when Tsukishima is holding the ice pick to do so.

"Aren't they?" Kuroo says, provoking, and already can't wait to find out why he's wrong.

Tsukishima scoffs, turning towards the end of the aisle to lead them out onto the streets. There's a spring in his step, one which is usually lacking due to the news on the radio, and the clothes on his back.

Kuroo cherishes it.

The blond sends one last carefree look from over his shoulder, the overbearing stadium lights bathing him in gold. Kuroo wonders briefly how Tsukishima must look when he's genuinely happy, in every area of life.

Something tells Kuroo his clothes have something to do with that, and he can't wait for the day when the blond can don his blues once more. Then, all the lights in the world will have nothing on him.

"You've got a lot to learn," Tsukishima says as he plows on forward, and Kuroo is powerless to resist following him.

\--

When they exit the stadium, Kuroo makes a split second, executive decision to steer Tsukishima down the back way. Thanks to his overly observant self (and pure chance that Tsukishima isn’t looking), he catches a group of workers busy painting over some graffiti. Very ugly, hateful graffiti.

Kuroo doesn’t stick around to read it. He catches the edges of the characters, coupled with the bright blue and red mixed together, and gets the gist. It’s a sore reminder that things are not okay, and won’t be for a while.

But still, he’s not going to let the night be ruined by letting the blond see any anti-waterbender demonstrations.

He takes them down a different exit tunnel, unaware of the new pain which awaits him.

"What are those things?"

It's the first thing Tsukishima asks when they make it outside, the crisp air making Kuroo pull his jacket tighter around himself. The area and the park surrounding the stadium are still fairly active, with couples and families leisurely relaxing by the ponds and lamplights.

Kuroo really does need to get out more. As much as he uses this city as an escape, parts of it truly are stunning.

When his eyes make it over to where Tsukishima is pointing though, he wishes they had gone the back way.

_Oh_.

"O-oh," Kuroo stutters, useless. Nice, he's already off to a good start, attempting to be cool. He coughs, and tries to keep his voice steady as his nerves about tonight come flooding back. It's not a date. So there's no reason for him to feel so intimidated by... _this_. It's a simple question, he tells himself, and swallows the rest of his stutters. "You know, turtle duck boats." 

Yes, turtle duck boats. Little bastards. 

The recreational lake is filled with them. The water is bordered by lanterns, providing soft, orange mood lighting as the boats drift casually along. Kuroo has seen them before, hard not to, since they're  _everywhere_. The shell of the boats hold the seating compartments, uncomfortably tiny spaces where it's nearly impossible to not cuddle up next to one's fellow rider.

It's why the things are so popular as a date activity.

Even now, Kuroo can make out the couples inside a few of them on the horizon. There's hardly any lighting within the boats themselves, better for privacy. Kuroo can practically hear the smooches and sweet nothings being exchanged all the way from where he stands.

And damn, is he jealous.

Oh yes, contrary to how pissy he sounds, the overly romantic appeal of a turtle duck boat ride is right up his alley.

It takes everything in his power to not suggest it.

This isn't a date. No. Nope.

"Turtle duck boats..." Tsukishima muses, almost to himself. There's a faraway look in his eyes as the boats drift past, the water rippling from the glide. "Huh."

Huh? What did he mean huh?

"Not what I expected from you," Kuroo says, and Tsukishima shoots him a questioning glance. It's comical enough to melt away  _some_  of Kuroo's nerves. "They're about the cheesiest things in the world, shouldn't you be rolling your eyes right now?"

Tsukishima  _does_  roll his eyes at that, and Kuroo's smugness grows. "Ah, there it is."

It's cute, the way Tsukishima crosses his arms, but he doesn't refute Kuroo's words. He stares out at the lake, and Kuroo can see his face more clearly now, enough to catch the edge of wistfulness painting it.

His smile falls when he hears the sigh slip from Tsukishima's lips, his laugh hushed and downright unacceptable.

"I guess they do look pretty ridiculous," Tsukishima whispers, and Kuroo watches like he's in a trance as the blond closes his eyes, taking in the sound of the slow moving water. The atmosphere of the lakeside, fake or not, envelops them. "But...it's been so long since I rode in a boat."

The blond's eyes crack open again, and Kuroo's mouth has a mind of its own. He just can't take that sadness, he's sure Tsukishima has had to deal with more than enough.

"Let's go then," he says, and he tries not to look so punched in the gut from regret. Even still, he can't seem to shut up. "You do that all the time in the north for fun right? Ride boats?"

Kuroo tries not to kick himself again. Since when does he know anything about the Water Tribe?

Tsukishima blinks at him, then at the boats, and then back. Each second of silence makes Kuroo want to curl up and die.

"Well....yeah but, in row boats, or gondolas. Isn't this more...for couples?" Tsukishima guesses, and as usual, is correct. To add even more pain to Kuroo's existence, a couple darts past them excitedly, holding hands on their way to line up for the rides.

_My life isn't worth living._

"Kuroo?" Tsukishima prods, snapping Kuroo out of it. He remembers the lost look in Tsukishima's eyes, not just with the boats, but with tribal food, outfits, everything...

No, humiliation be damned, Kuroo can do this.

"Yeah but, you miss it right? I'm sure we can make it work," Kuroo responds, and he's being genuine. Tsukishima has had to give up so much of his culture. If Kuroo can incite some positive nostalgia for the other in some way, he's going to take the opportunity.

Kuroo's reassurance seems to ease Tsukishima's doubts, and the tension in the other's shoulders diminishes. "Okay, if you're sure."

But Kuroo is already leading Tsukishima by the wrist to the line, fooled by the confidence and cunning of his own words, as so many usually are. "Oh, I'm sure."

After all, they'll be able to fit comfortably, right?

\--

Wrong.

Oh so very, very wrong.

First of all, Kuroo couldn't see the hearts from the outside of the boat. There are hearts. They line the wall along with fake stars, a clear sign that this is not something intended for people on a not-date. Second, Kuroo often forgets how tall he and Tsukishima are.

Very tall, is the answer.

Along with the amount of space Kuroo himself takes up, it's hard to not brush hands or shoulders. Hell, Tsukishima nearly ended up in Kuroo's lap when they first entered the boat, and Kuroo had to save himself from a heart attack by pure power of will alone.

In short, the space is small, and meant for cuddling, and it takes a lot of rearranging and shy gazes to finally make it into a semi-acceptable position.

Tsukishima is lying on the floor of the boat, and Kuroo sits facing the opposite direction. Their knees touch, because it's impossible not to, and sometimes their fingers brush from where they rest against the cushioned floor.

As awkward as it starts, it's...nice. And warm, if nothing else. The climate of Republic City in the winter is not something Kuroo is ever going to get used to.

Tsukishima pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his head against them as he stares out at the lake and occasionally at Kuroo.

The hearts behind the blond seem to mock Kuroo, in an infuriatingly subtle way.

Still, with Tsukishima looking so at peace to be on the water...he doesn't mind.

The other boats are far enough away that they can't hear the conversations of others, and the tension between them eventually dissolves enough for Tsukishima to laugh at Kuroo's expense.

Kuroo nudges him with his foot, and there's nowhere to hide the bashfulness on his face. "In my defense, how was I supposed to know? We don't have these in Zaofu."

He expects another teasing remark, or a simple scoff. What he doesn't anticipate is the small look of shock on the blond's face when he raises his head.

Caught, the blond's mouth fumbles for words, but Kuroo beats him to it.

"What?" he asks, and his voice is grounding enough to make Tsukishima find his own.

The blond shrugs, and curls into himself even tighter. "Mm, nothing. You just never mention Zaofu."

The observation makes Kuroo pause, and honestly, he doesn't know whether to be happy or upset Tsukishima would notice such a thing. There's a reason he doesn't, and normally it's easy not to talk about his old home, but he'd felt so at peace...

With Tsukishima, things slip, and Kuroo's smile falls as he glances down at the side of the boat.

"Oh, I guess," Kuroo says, and he joins it with the fakest laugh he can manage. "Sorry, it's not like I hate it there or anything."

"I can tell," Tsukishima says, unprompted, and Kuroo's heart clenches again. Tsukishima says it like it's nothing, or it's obvious, but Kuroo knows it isn't. Most people assume he hates Zaofu, can't get through his reactions and avoidances long enough to see how much he truly loves the city he left behind. But Tsukishima knows, without much effort, he knows.

The blond continues, as if he knows to save Kuroo from addressing his lie. "I've always wanted to visit Zaofu. I hear it's quite an interesting city, sometimes the North hires architects from there to reinforce the buildings. They always told us stories while they worked."

Kuroo can't help but smile. Interesting doesn't even begin to cover it. And fuck it, he lets the excitement leak into his voice for the first time in a long time. "It is! It's...beautiful, and unique, probably the most innovative city I know."

No wonder their architects are in such high demand. Some of the greatest minds come out of Zaofu, not to mention the best metalbenders. Kuroo has never felt a city appreciate itself more with such humility and care, he could feel it, even walking down the streets. And when the domes sealed up for the night, it would be as if all the citizens existed in their own little world.

Kuroo's smile threatens to split his voice, and it's painful in more ways than one. Something in his blood still yearns for that feeling, he knows it, but he won't go back.

It's the past, so it should stay in the past.

The silence sits between them, but it doesn't suffocate the space. The air is too crisp and clean for that. Tsukishima stares at him, and Kuroo doesn't squirm under his gaze. He likes it now, especially knowing Tsukishima can really see him.

Eventually, the blond asks what Kuroo expects. "Why did you move here? If you loved Zaofu so much..."

The blond's voice tapers off into a whisper, and his fingers absentmindedly play with the sleeve of his coat. His face, always searching...

It's a question no one has ever asked Kuroo, not really, not to achieve anything besides small talk. That's not what this is; Kuroo's not sure either of them is even capable of small talk with each other.

But the answer comes easily. He's carried it for so long, the shame which comes with speaking it is still a relief more than a burden.

Kuroo sighs, and the words flow like a stream. "I couldn't bear it, I guess."

Admitting it is about as pathetic as he assumed.

Tsukishima's head falls back onto his knees, patient, his eyes closing like he's truly trying to soak up Kuroo's voice.

It shouldn't make him as emotional as it does, but his grandmother always told him closing his eyes would help him focus better.

It's absurd, how he can find connections in the smallest things. It feels like everything triggers a memory, something he both hates and loves with everything he has.

He precedes his words with a disclaimer, because he's hopeless, not because he thinks Tsukishima will judge him. "Don't think less of me but, it became too painful." He swallows, clenching his fist, and fights the memories one by one. They start with pancake breakfasts and walks to the park, a weekly trip to the toy store...

Too much, too precious.

"I was raised by my grandparents. My Dad passed when I was too young, and my mom never really stuck around. They were all I had, and...I loved them."

Of course he loved them.

"It never felt like I was missing something," Kuroo says, laughing at the times kids in school would cruelly try and tease him. He'd always felt whole in his grandparents' home. The lump begins to take up space in his throat. "I loved them...more than I think I'll ever be able to really say? I don't know. That sounds dumb...but, it's because of them. Because of them some of my fondest memories are and always will be of Zaofu..."

The cracks and pauses in his words beat him over the head, and he swallows, fighting against the need to choke on them. It's a hard battle. He'd face police and street gangs any day over this.

Tsukishima's head perks up, and he shakes his head. As cutting as the blond can be, he's too kind to Kuroo. "You don't have to--"

"No, no it's alright." Kuroo offers the reassurance to both of them. This is good for him, and for some reason...he doesn't have a problem sharing with the blond. If he shares with anyone, this is the most fitting of choices.

Tsukishima would know what it's like to leave things behind.

Kuroo leans back as far as he can in the boat, and his life decisions weigh on him in a new way. Aloud, he wonders if it was the right choice, but he's never been one to run from the consequences of his actions. He gestures vaguely with his hands, unsure. "Just, when they finally passed away, Zaofu started to feel like some kind of memorial. I  _hated_  that. I saw them everywhere I went. The stores we used to shop at, my grandma's favorite restaurants, even the railway line..."

He could sense them in every corner of that city, and it was too much. Still is too much.

Kuroo shakes his head. "I couldn't escape, and it sounds terrible but...I needed to. I missed them too much to stay, and I know they would've told me to leave, they'd understand. I...I don't know what I'm saying, it made sense in my head at the time."

He pauses, his jaw tensing up, and he hopes Tsukishima doesn't take it as an opening to speak. Kuroo isn't quite done yet. There's one more thing he feels compelled to bring to light, no matter how bad it makes him look.

Of course, Tsukishima doesn't make a sound.

Kuroo breathes in, unfairly shaky, before the last of the gunk in his brain is extracted, pulled from him. "I guess I can't help but feel like a coward sometimes."

_Coward_.

Kuroo knows no one else can hear him, but it feels like the world hushes at the word, as if it were waiting to ridicule him for it.

But no, the laughter from other boats continues, the water ripples, and the fireflies around the water's shore pay no mind.

He breathes out, and nothing changes.

It's a strange comfort, and his muscles relax in the quiet of their own little, overly romantic bubble. At least Kuroo isn't worrying about the date thing anymore.

The thought makes him crack the smallest smile, and well, that's what his grandparents would've wanted.

When Tsukishima clears his throat, it's welcome.

"You're not," the blond says, after the silence has settled enough to not be a threat. Kuroo's eyes widen; validation feels better than he thought it would. His grandparents will never be around again to comfort him, but this is the next best thing.

Tsukishima's fingers curl around each other, pulling and squeezing. Kuroo knows words are hard for him, he barely realizes how reluctant Tsukishima looks to speak.

But he does, to Kuroo. For Kuroo.

"I doubt they think so either. Your grandparents. It's...hard to be constantly reminded of things that are gone," Tsukishima whispers, glaring out the small window. He looks like he hates nothing more than to admit he's hurting, to express his sympathy.

The fact he does it anyways, for Kuroo's sake, makes his emotions run wilder. Kuroo won't cry, but he doubts Tsukishima would hold it against him.

Tsukishima's hands tremble some more, and Kuroo knows a simple thank you won't do in this case. Then, Kuroo wonders if he's maybe been insensitive since day one.

Like him, Tsukishima has been trying his best to get away from painful reminders. It's why he avoided the Southern Tribe, why he put away all his clothes for good.

Kuroo feels a surge push him forward, and he grabs Tsukishima's wrist. They both flinch, but...he needs to say this. "Hey, if...if by taking you on this boat...to that diner...if any of it is too much I'm so--"

" _No_ ," Tsukishima silences him in an instant, sharper than any metal cable or spear of ice. Kuroo doesn't know what to say, and Tsukishima's eyes eventually soften. There's an apology laced in those eyes now, but he doesn't speak it. Kuroo doesn't take offense. "No...I, I need it. It's awful sometimes but, if it weren't for the memories of the North I'd..."

Tsukishima doesn't let himself finish, and Kuroo expects as much. One day, maybe Tsukishima will let himself speak without hesitation, but for now Kuroo is content with this. Slowly, Kuroo's hand drifts off the blond's wrist, and he misses the touch immediately.

He doesn't ask Tsukishima to elaborate either; He can read between the lines well enough.

_You'd feel like you were dying._

It's an emotion Kuroo is all too familiar with. He could go on and on about it for the next few hours, but that feels wrong. Tsukishima doesn't need to know all that, because he probably can already sense it.

"I understand," Kuroo says, and it's all he  _needs_  to say. Instead of talking about himself, he takes the opportunity to take some weight off the blond, in any way he can. "What about your family though? Did you leave anyone behind?"

Tsukishima's face drops immediately into disdain. Welp.

The blond scoffs, but upon seeing the look on Kuroo's face, he relents with a long sigh. Kuroo is about to tell him he doesn't need to say if he doesn't want to. It's not like they owe each other anything, but Tsukishima is speaking before he gets the chance.

Maybe he also has some things to get off his chest. "I have a brother, but...we don't exactly see eye to eye. My dad passed away, and I never really knew my mom. There are people I...liked, sure, but I never minded being by myself."

Kuroo laughs. Tsukishima's aversion to the word 'friends' is particularly adorable.

Regardless, Kuroo can't imagine being so distant from his family. He grew up a fairly shy kid, and always needed his alone time after being around people for too long. But eventually, he would seek the comfort of others.

"I'm sorry," he offers, because he can't think of anything else, and he makes it a mission to be someone Tsukishima can lean on. In a way, they're already doing that for each other.

Tsukishima only shrugs, and the bit of amusement which lines his smile is enough to ease Kuroo's worries. "Don't be. I never felt alone, even in the loneliest place in the world."

Kuroo imagines an icy frontier, miles and miles out with no people in sight, and thinks he can definitely see why it's Tsukishima's own personal brand of paradise.

He laughs, and nudges his foot against Tsukishima's. "Well, I'm still really glad you moved here, of all places."

_And I hope you won't ever feel lonely._

Tsukishima doesn't deserve that.

As corny as it sounds, he means it. Kuroo's quality of life has improved significantly since the blond got here. The days are brighter, even when no sun makes it through the dark clouds. And even with the city in crisis, the blond is a light in the dark. Kuroo can only hope he and Daishou can live freely again soon.

The blond smiles, and a blush colors his cheeks, enough to send Kuroo completely over the edge. He's a goner, and he takes no issue with it.

"Me too," Tsukishima says, reaching out of the boat to glide his fingers along the water's surface. "...now."

Kuroo tries his best not to slap himself, or better yet, fling himself into the lake. Before he loses his nerve, he takes the metal armband off himself and squishes it in his hands like dough. Tsukishima sits up, fixated, and Kuroo smiles. He loves that look.

Kuroo squints, biting his lip as he curls his hands around the lump of metal, slowly morphing it into a single, crescent moon.

Craters included.

It's a stupid little pendant with no chain, but maybe it can serve as some kind of...good luck talisman? Or something. Kuroo doesn't know, but he hands it over to the blond anyways, and doesn't regret it. It's hard to, when Tsukishima stares at it in wonder, taking it into his hands like it's paper and not hard as rock.

It's not a full moon, and it doesn't look as nice as the symbol of the Water Tribes, but...

"Here," Kuroo says, and can proudly say it's his favorite thing he's ever shaped, purely from Tsukishima's reaction to it. "So you can carry around one more thing that reminds you of home."

_Besides_  Daishou's necklace.

For whatever reason, the reminder that Tsukishima's necklace is from the waterbender irks him a little, but he locks the thought away. It means nothing.

At Tsukishima's silence, Kuroo starts to ramble again, and wow...he needs to get out of this boat before he makes a complete fool of himself. "I-I know it's not blue but, I hope you like it."

It's a pathetic thing to say, but then Tsukishima pulls the moon close to his heart, and Kuroo's own melts.

Any other excuses or dismissals on his tongue never leave it, and he's left feeling lighter than before.

He can't remember the last time he's had a night like this, but he knows it won't be the last, now that Tsukishima is by his side.

The blond nods as his fingers trace the craters of the moon, and his answering smile is the only thanks Kuroo needs.

\--

They don't speak again. On the train ride home, they avoid eye contact, and the giddiness Kuroo feels is enough to make him explode. He can feel when Tsukishima glances at him from the corner of his eye, and by the time he looks back, the blond is fixated on the floor, the tips of his ears red.

He hasn't let go of the moon either. Kuroo's own face probably looks like a fire lily. 

His heart is beating a mile a minute, all the way until he's walking Tsukishima to his door, hands stuffed deep into his pockets to stop himself from reaching out for the blond's. 

He feels like an airbender, like he could lift himself to the greatest of heights.

When Tsukishima bids him goodnight, Kuroo already can't wait to see him again, and thinks how he wouldn't mind a real date the next time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate all of you who follow this fic, it means so much to me that you gave this fic a chance! Sorry this chapter was a little slow, but we're slowly moving out of the kurotsuki downtime "arc" and into more important things, so thanks for the patience! 
> 
> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole) for more fic screaming!


	5. love is a risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm starting to get nervous because I'm catching up with this fic really fast lol I need to start writing it again! But also, I'm very excited about the events of and after this chapter, bc we're slowly coming out of the downtime ;) Enjoy~
> 
> Thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

Akaashi has witnessed a lot of bullshit in his life. It comes with the job; from terrible alibis to rushed investigations to the annual Christmas party, he's dealt with quite a lot.

This might take the cake though, and he does his best to not break the conference table in half from how hard he's gripping it.

Better yet, he just might bend it into a ball of sheet metal, that would be fun.

The conference room is filled to the brim with as many officers as it can manage. It's not an official meeting, more like a rally pulled together by one of the more senior officers. Akaashi shouldn't have come, but he'll be damned if he misses anything having to do with his case.

For the sake of the persecuted, he sits through all the sludge.

Sensing his agitation, Bokuto huffs a small laugh beside him, but the amusement doesn't last.

"We need to start calling suspects in, going through public records," one of the older police officers says, and in truth, Akaashi has never liked him. Yet years and years pass, and he never retires. One day.

Akaashi tries not to look too bothered by the use of the word "suspects," since it's being used in an entirely false sense. If by suspects, they mean any waterbender within the city limits, they should just say so.

"You can't just call in and detain people who haven't been formally arrested," Akaashi says, as calm as possible. It almost sounds rehearsed, and it sort of is, because somehow he knew he'd be saying  _something_  to this effect. But, the last thing he needs is to look like he's meeting anger with anger. Akaashi is never angry, first off. In most situations, the emotion is more loud than helpful and it never gets the job done.

It's why he does  _not_  appreciate the glare pointedly directed at his person.

Bokuto's fist curls on top of the table, but Akaashi doesn't need him coming to his defense quite yet. He can handle this.

But as calm and professional as he is, Akaashi is also petty. He continues speaking in the other officer's face, like his glare is nothing more than a breeze on a nice day. The room holds its breath. "We've been cracking down enough on the waterbending population and it's gotten us nowhere, unless you count the swarms of bad press as  _progress_. We need to start looking into victims before anything else, see if anyone had anything against them."

It wouldn't be a bad place to start, and certainly less of a time waster than rifling through old documents. No one had even thought to pay attention to the victims, too busy hopping onto the anti-waterbending train. Hatred isn't good for justice, Akaashi finds, and at this rate the killer will never be found.

And in the meantime, more waterbenders suffer.

Akaashi isn't a fan of his city being throw this out of order, but if the police force can't even agree on things between themselves, there's no hope for the city.

They're not even sure if this is one person anymore. Hitmen are not uncommon, and there's a danger of copycat killers coming out of the woodwork. No one seems to want to admit that with enough time, a crime scene can be staged any way someone pleases.

Who is to say they're even dealing with a waterbender anymore?

Ah, but prejudice has no room for logic.

"The victims span all the nations  _other_  than the Water Tribe, lived in different areas, and had no common acquaintances or affiliations," the officer says, and okay,  _now_  Akaashi wants Bokuto to punch him. "What we need is to buckle down in our vetting for waterbenders, including those just coming into the city."

So much for his attempt at distracting them.

Akaashi will admit, he has a point. The evidence is there to suggest a waterbendering culprit, and in his gut, he knows it is one. Regardless, something feels wrong. None of the convicted or on-parole waterbenders in their system have produced any leads. They've been chipped and cleared, and no suspicious behavior has popped up since.

Not so much as a parking ticket.

And they've been chipping so many waterbenders, one would think they'd have a narrower search field by now.

But no, all it's done is cause more grief and discord. Akaashi vaguely remembers their run in with the rookie cops some weeks back, the way they'd been flaunting their power over the masses. If that civilian metalbender hadn't stepped in and bought them some time...

Akaashi shakes his head; they're running out of options, but there has to be another way. A  _better_  way.

"With all due respect," Bokuto speaks up, and his smile is nowhere to be found. Akaashi admires how much he's rubbed off on Bokuto, because there's no respect in his voice. Good. "Won't that take forever? And once people get wind of it, the city's faith and trust in us will drop even more than it already has! Waterbenders are terrified right now and you want to start targeting all of them?"

As if they already weren’t, Akaashi wants to say, but he keeps his sass under lock and key.

In the past, Akaashi thought Bokuto's passionate speeches and convictions were nonsense, the talk of a rookie whose hope would soon die off. Years later, and he has a better understanding. Bokuto is the best of them, and his words always carry meaning. He's right, and his tone carries everything in Akaashi's heart that he himself cannot communicate.

He hates the room of cops already; he knows they won't listen.

"Yeah well, the public is terrified of them, and it's our job to protect  _those_  civilians," the officer waves his hand, and a majority of the room stands to get back to work. Bokuto and Akaashi stay seated, astounded and fuming. It's what he expected, but it stings. "I'll run the investigations idea up to the chief, for now, I want more of those pretty boy's chips handed out to patrol units."

Those chips are the worst thing to happen to this city, even Oikawa Tooru agrees. Akaashi hasn't handed out a single one.

Akaashi bites back a scathing remark. It's their job to protect  _all_  civilians, but the mocking look in the other officer's eyes tells Akaashi he doesn't care for his morals. Akaashi also resists telling him that his orders mean nothing to him, because they really don't.

Until word from upstairs officially comes down, Akaashi doesn't have to do shit.

But he sits in silence, powerless to do much else.

It's why he's so grateful to have Bokuto, who never gives up.

His partner stands before the room can fully clear, and his booming voice causes them all to halt. "Sir, before you run that up to the chief, wouldn't it be a good idea to interview the waterbenders around the areas of the previous two crimes? If any of them are chipped, it would be nice to start ruling some of them out. As well as any waterbenders who'd been chipped before the most recent crime."

The officers paused to think, and the murmuring around them begins.

It's mostly busy work, Akaashi realizes. While yes, it is helpful, it doesn't necessarily get them any close to finding the real perpetrator. Even still, there's an underlying point there. It's better for them to have exercised all other options before bothering the chief with something that'll have the media all over them again.

Some waterbenders will still pay in the process, but not as many, and this will hopefully hold things off long enough for bigger leads to be discovered.

The older officer coughs, and Akaashi can somewhat breathe easy when he speaks this time. "Reasonable call Bokuto, let's run some follow-up. Dismissed."

The sound of people filing out for good allows Akaashi's scoff to get drowned out. Just to be defiant, he stays seated, until only he and Bokuto are left in the room.

Bokuto's eyes are weary, but he breathes a sigh of relief. Akaashi hates seeing him like this. The other has friends who are waterbenders, no one's been more upset about solving this case than him. In fact, when they first started dating, their first vacation together was to the Water Tribe.

They both want nothing more than for all this to stop, but they've got a long way to go.

Bokuto collapses in the chair next to Akaashi, the metal scuffing the floor, and they exchange a silent glance.

They don't have much time, but at least they bought some more. Knowing more overtime awaits them both, Akaashi places a grateful hand against Bokuto's his fingers curling naturally around it. They'll get through this, they have to.

Bokuto reciprocates his touch in full, like he always does.

_Thank you,_  Akaashi thinks, and then reluctantly stares up at the clock. He much prefers Bokuto's eyes.

He'll get his fill of them though,  _after_  they solve this case.

Every minute is mocking. There's no telling when the police force will become agitated again about not having leads, and resort to the senior officer's plan, but they both know it'll be sooner rather than later.

Standing up, Bokuto gives Akaashi's hand one final, affectionate squeeze, before they're heading out of the conference room, minds set on work and work alone.

\--

Kuroo is becoming way too familiar with Tsukishima's door.

It's got exactly three scuff marks near the bottom, from where people have kicked it open a little too hard. There's evidence of old wreaths and flags which used to hang on it, small holes where nails used to be. It's painted a dull blue now, blending weirdly with the old brown it once was. The paint is Daishou and Tsukishima's only customization on the outside of the house.

Usually, it makes Kuroo laugh fondly, but today his throat is too dry and his nerves too frenzied. He swallows, looks out at the street, and then at his shoes, as if debating on forgetting this and walking back.

Tsukishima isn't expecting him. Maybe he's busy, or maybe he's gone. Kuroo could just come back later...

No, no he won't do that. This is something he wants, needs to know, possible rejection be damned.

The bouquet weighs too heavy in his hands, but it's beautiful, so it's worth it. He stares down at the damp petals, blooming, brilliant and strong in the terrible, sunless weather.

Peculiar things, moon flowers.

The florist had told him they're perfect for this time of year, _and_ for a house with no windows. They love shade, and can only bloom properly with a lack of sun. They're white, almost glowing, and Kuroo bought them in an instant.

It's easy to see where they get their name from, and they _scream_ Tsukishima. Alluring, bright, with an intense desire to hide. Yet in the shadows, they shine the most.

God, Kuroo truly is done for, and he smiles, hoping Tsukishima will be able to sense that. The blond is the most stunning and unique person Kuroo has ever met, and he doesn't feel the need to hide how he feels anymore.

It could all go down the drain, but he has to try. His sweaty hands stick awkwardly to the wrapping paper around the stems, but he manages to pull one away to knock on the door. This is it, no going back.

He's painfully nervous, but still, he doesn't regret what he's about to do. He knocks three times, in some stupid, random rhythm that'll let Tsukishima know it's him.

Tsukishima always says it's annoying, but he smiles every time.

Like now, for instance.

When the blond opens the door, Kuroo knows he's making the right choice. The sky is grey, ugly to most people, and all day he's been hearing people complain about it. And yet here Tsukishima is, radiant.

His eyes soften immediately upon seeing Kuroo's face, and then they flick curiously down to Kuroo's hands, where the flowers sit, and Kuroo can't stall anymore.

He pushes them gently into Tsukishima's hands, and he doesn't let himself linger on the surprised 'o' of his mouth before he's speaking his mind. "I wanted to get you something to show how amazing I think you are, but now that you're here I'm not really sure even these do you justice."

Nothing probably will.

He gives a small, pathetic laugh, but Tsukishima stays quiet, motionless, never turning away from Kuroo's face. He takes it as a good sign. "Tsukishima Kei, these past few weeks I've spent with you have been some of the most fun of my life. I know this might seem sudden...but honestly I think I've waited long enough."

He hears Tsukishima's hands tighten around the paper of the bouquet. Kuroo swallows, closes his eyes, and tries not to cut and run. At least he feels these words with all his heart, and it helps him get through the rest. "I really like you, and if you want, I'd like to take you on a proper date tomorrow night."

He has to physically stop himself from saying more. He bites his lip, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Not exactly the picture of confidence, but he's never really done this before.

Sure, he's taken girls and guys on lunch dates and late night strolls in Zaofu as a teenager, but he's never felt this strongly.

He can only hope that if Tsukishima doesn't feel the same way, they'll still be friends. Kuroo can't imagine his life without him, even after such a short time.

He lets himself look at Tsukishima after what feels like forever, and he's not disappointed. The blond has a full blush this time. It dances across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, and Kuroo would put money on it spreading to his neck.

Tsukishima's eyes are fixated on the flowers, his fingers gently gliding along the petals, and Kuroo wants to say 'yes, they're real.' He can't help but grin, no matter how his stomach is twisting, or how badly he wants to jump in a pool of water.

When Tsukishima looks at Kuroo, his expression screams shock, but in the best way. Like with the flowers, it's as if he can't believe the confession is directed at him.

And again, Kuroo wants to say 'yes, it's you.' Part of him feels like it'll always be him, but that's too far for two people who've never even been on one date.

Hopefully, that changes.

"You like them?" Kuroo asks after a beat of silence, because he's not as brave as he likes to think. He kicks at open air childishly, trying not to squirm. The need to hold something is too strong, like he'll float away from the look on Tsukishima's face alone.

The question has the blond stumbling for a voice again, looking back at the flowers. It's hard; Tsukishima has trouble talking over how big his smile is, and stubbornly takes his hand away from the flowers to cover it. Kuroo steps closer, until only the bouquet stands between them.

It's like a current, and the overconfident parts of him can already feel what the blond's answer is. But insecurities and his heart keep him on edge, unwilling to accept.

Eventually, Tsukishima nods, his perfect eyes flicking up to Kuroo's. "Nothing this pretty grows where I'm from, it's too cold."

Kuroo can't stop himself from laughing. Finally, a good thing about Republic City which beats out the Northern Tribe.

Fondly, he reaches out, adjusting some of the flowers.

"Well, they're yours now, no matter what your answer is..." Kuroo says, because he feels like he needs to. He wants Tsukishima to know if he has second thoughts, it's okay, even as his heart beats out of his chest.

Tsukishima blinks, reminded of why Kuroo is here in the first place, and before Kuroo can blink back, the blond is ducking his head as far into the flowers as he can. It probably smushes them a little, but neither of them really care. Kuroo's entire body feels on edge, and he's pretty sure his heart stops before the words leave Tsukishima's mouth.

Sometimes, his instincts don't fail him.

"Did...did you really think I'd say no?" Tsukishima asks, like he's running out of breath, and he inhales sharply, his eyes barely peeking above the bouquet. "Honestly..."

He's trying to sound annoyed, to conjure up that snarky sarcasm Kuroo loves so much, but it doesn't work. He sounds far too lightheaded, about as skybound as Kuroo feels. If they were airbenders, they'd be miles above right now.

"Wha--" Kuroo tries, and fails. He wants to scream, and he's sure it shows. His grin is loud and all consuming, and his hands come out to grab the stems of the flowers just to ground himself. It's a mistake, a happy one. His fingers brush against the blond's, and he sighs. "You...you want to?"

Before Tsukishima can answer, there's a noise behind him. Kuroo vaguely catches Daishou's curious silhouette as it enters the living room, eyebrow arching. But before he can see them, Tsukishima's eyes widen, and he slams the door behind him in an instant. It isolates them on the porch, and the blond seems to wait for a sound, a hint that Daishou might try to see what they're up to.

When nothing happens, the blond breathes a sigh of relief.

Kuroo blinks in surprise, but he guesses he can't find it too weird. This is embarrassing enough without an audience. Tsukishima coughs, pushing a strand from his bangs out of his face, and wow Kuroo hopes he gets an opportunity to do that for him one of these days.

"I...I really want to, yeah," Tsukishima breathes out, and his back hits the door as his feet will him to escape. It's unfairly endearing.

Kuroo can't resist feeling proud too. Tsukishima is reserved with his emotions, shy, and yet...

The blond decided Kuroo's worth it. He likes Kuroo enough to tell him so.

_Fuck, I need to get out of here._

Otherwise he might get too ahead of himself.

On cloud nine, Kuroo begins walking backwards. Dangerous, given the stairs, but he feels invincible. "So, tomorrow?"

Maybe the next day too, or forever if he wants.

Tsukishima nods profusely, crushing the flowers in his arms. "Mm, sounds good."

_Sounds amazing._

Kuroo sighs, and nearly trips down the stairs, but Tsukishima's laugh also makes that worth it. Kuroo doesn't want to stop staring though. Tsukishima is gorgeous, especially when flustered, so he'll deal with looking like a dork.

He makes it safely down the stairs and onto the street, walking backwards with as much grace as he can manage, waving stupidly. The blond waits until Kuroo is forced to turn a corner, their eyes not leaving each other, and when Kuroo is sure he can't be seen, he breaks out into a sprint of endless energy.

\--

When he shows up at Tsukishima's door the next night, he's disappointed to find the blond isn't home. It's only sort of a relief, and Kuroo lets himself breathe in the nicer clothes he's thrown on. The night air has already started to chill him to the bone, and he hikes his backpack higher onto his shoulders, thankful he packed a better coat. 

The thought reminds him of his plans, and he tries not to vibrate on the spot, the excitement runs through him.

Then, his brain catches up with him.

Tsukishima isn't home. Daishou however,  _is_ , and as soon as he opens the door to let Kuroo in, the metalbender can tell something is off. He stands there, giving Kuroo the once over, not offering so much as a greeting.

Surely, Tsukishima told him about their date. It's not like it's an easy thing to keep hidden, and who cares?

Daishou's eyes are not surprised to see Kuroo, so that's what he assumes happened. Daishou knows, and he's just being prickly about it.

But there's something in his expression which makes Kuroo second guess himself as he walks carefully into their home. Daishou's eyes do not leave him for a minute, even as he shuts the door and walks into the kitchenette.

It's not like him.

Daishou is never out in the living room, even according to Tsukishima; the waterbender always retreats into the sanctuary of his own room, avoids the two of them like the plague. Tsukishima says he likes his alone time is all, but Kuroo gets the feeling there's more to it.

Kuroo sits down on their couch, but he can't help it, his eyes can't stop following Daishou either. Tsukishima's home is normally a great comfort to him, the Water Tribe decor and low lighting giving it a cozy feeling, especially during the cold days. Now, it's slowly being filled with tension like a tub, the water line threatening to suffocate Kuroo slowly and surely.

The waterbender leans against the wall by his room, a few feet away from the couch, his eyes hawk-like. Again, if he weren't so obviously a waterbender, Kuroo would never believe it, despite how much Tsukishima has introduced him to new world views. Daishou tries to be, for lack of a better word, deadly. And he'd succeed, if it weren't for the truth Kuroo knows about him being an easily agitated, flustered little shit.

As if sensing that, Daishou's eye twitches, and he finally grants Kuroo some words. "Tsukishima got a little held up at the markets, he'll be here soon."

Ah.

The prospect of getting to see Tsukishima does monopolize a lot of Kuroo's thoughts. His worries, his anticipation, they run through him like a shot. He's thought a lot about this date, and what to do, where to take the blond. He thinks he's made the right decision, but...they'll see.

The coat in his backpack sits heavier against his skin.

"Cool," Kuroo says, almost reassuringly, to himself. It'll be fine. He swallows down the nerves, and thankfully, Daishou is there to distract him.

Regardless of if it's amicable conversation.

The waterbender scoffs, and again, makes no move to leave. Kuroo tenses up at the fire in his eyes, on edge. Daishou wouldn't attack him in his own home right?

And why is he even assuming that?

The hostility in his eyes has to be new.

No, Kuroo thinks, and tries to tell himself this is simply how the waterbender looks all the time. Daishou crosses his arms, and his eyes flick to the side, and the hint of color on his cheeks already tells Kuroo he hates his own words.

Maybe he does get why Daishou is a waterbender; he's as clouded and unexplored as the sea, a mystery. That observation only gets stronger.

"So Tsukishima gets to have a boyfriend huh? Rich," the waterbender mutters to himself, and Kuroo can tell it's not aimed at him. The bitterness in the words leave him with no connection, no way of prying. He's left sitting there, wondering what in the hell that's supposed to mean as Daishou burns a hole in the floor.

For whatever reason, Kuroo can't help but think of the betrothal necklace tied around Tsukishima's neck.

On the table, a half empty glass of water shakes, and Kuroo learns more about Daishou with every interaction. It doesn't surprise him. The waterbender is emotional, and it leaks into everything, even his bending.

The water tips over, and neither of them rush to stop the spill as it hits the table with a clang. Kuroo keeps his eyes fixed on him, even as Daishou pushes himself up from the wall, rage filled reluctance crossing his features.

"Look, I don't care what you guys do," Daishou says, unconvincing as his voice trembles. "But do  _not_  hurt Tsukishima. I don't think you understand how much you'll regret it."

The waterbender doesn't give Kuroo even a moment to respond, or to fire back. It pisses Kuroo off for once. How dare Daishou assume he'd  _ever_  hurt Tsukishima, someone Kuroo cared so much about. Kuroo wants to say as much, even if these are just the protective words of a friend.

He doesn't want Daishou to see him that way.

But in an instant, Daishou's door is slamming shut, rattling the wall and all its decorations until they nearly topple off. The threat hangs thick in the air.

At least Kuroo knows how much Daishou cares now, but he can't help but seethe either way. It reminds Kuroo how much he still doesn't know about Daishou's relationship with Tsukishima, their history. It's none of his business, and he should be glad Tsukishima has a friend who would cover for him like that, but...

As Kuroo gently picks up the glass of water Daishou spilled, he wonders if he's missed something. It's possible he's overthinking things, as he always does. After all, if this were his friend dating a guy they haven't known long, he'd be the same way...

Kuroo sighs, standing to pace the room as soon as he's sure Daishou won't be coming back out anytime soon.

Slowly, his thoughts drift back to more pressing things, like their date. The draft from outside is chilling, but he knows where they're heading will be much colder. Fondly, Kuroo glides his fingers across one of the royal blue wall tapestries, and prays he's making a good choice.

By the time Kuroo feels like the tension has stopped weighing on the room like a blanket, the door clicks, and Tsukishima is home.

Kuroo's heart is in shambles again.

The blond isn't exactly the picture of neatness. His hair is ruffled, some of it stuck to his forehead from exertion. Kuroo doesn't doubt he rushed his cleaning to get here. His chest heaves from how he must've ran home, and there's questionable stains on his pants from hauling fish and seafood all day.

Kuroo thinks he looks amazing, even if he can't help but resent the green he's wearing. He laughs to himself. If that's how he feels, he can't imagine how badly Tsukishima wants to burn the attire.

Tsukishima stares at him, opened mouthed and just as stunned, and Kuroo feels oddly conscious about his long sleeved shirt and tailored pants. It's his normal color combination of black and greenish-gray, with a fancier flair, but maybe he doesn't look as good as he thought.

He messes with one of his armbands to hide his nerves, but then Tsukishima is smiling at him, and all doubts flood out of his mind.

They're happy to see each other, and the observation sends his stomach flipping in gymnast fashion. Kuroo breathes a sigh of relief, trying not to openly swoon. "Hi."

"Hey," Tsukishima says, and then he looks down at himself, realizing his state. The blush is nothing short of adorable as he tries to inconspicuously cross his arms over himself, one leg hooking behind the other, less stained one.

Kuroo tries not to laugh, but it's useless, especially when Tsukishima pouts like that.

"It's okay, you'll need to change anyways," Kuroo says, extending his hand. It's stupid. This is Tsukishima's house, he doesn't need the invitation, but the blond takes Kuroo's hand anyways. "Make sure you dress for the cold."

As he says it, he almost wants to chastise Tsukishima for not being bundled up already. Isn't he from the coldest place on Earth? The blond is chilled to the touch, but Kuroo just tightens his hold, wishing he could just keep him inside and get him warmed up.

It's a fantasy for another day. Kuroo has other plans, and with any luck, Tsukishima will love them.

Tsukishima's brow furrows, and Kuroo notes (giddily) that he doesn't let go of his hand. "Where are we going?"

Shooing Tsukishima off in the direction of his room to change, Kuroo makes a gesture of zipping his lips while Tsukishima rolls his eyes. But the blond doesn't protest, so it's a win.

Kuroo grins, the butterflies in his stomach having a field day, and tries not to spoil the entire evening. "Oh, you'll see."

And with any luck, things won't be a disaster.

\--

If anything, the views make the night worth it alone. Kuroo isn't emotional, not about everything. He hasn't cried since his grandparents left him, but the sight in front of him has him misty eyed.

The lands around the spirit portal make Kuroo feel as if he's stepped into another lifetime, another realm, one where the sun always shines. It's how bright the portal is; the glow spreads and touches everything in the vicinity, bathing it in gold. The vines which wrap around its base like a whirlpool are largely untouched, fanning out into the space for at least a mile.

He stares, stunned, along with a group of others. Tsukishima is by his side, and Kuroo is positive he's holding his breath. They've never been this close, have only seen pictures and heard stories.

Kuroo regrets that. If he could, this is the first place he would've visited back when he moved to the city.

The particles of light trickle through the portal's stream, and he yearns to touch, to see what it's like to disappear inside of it.

"Wow..." Tsukishima whispers, and Kuroo looks over. No matter what the blond thinks of the surprise, Kuroo will never forget seeing him like this, doused in a halo of otherworldly quality.

"Yeah," he breathes back, and watches the flowers around the vines bloom, well fed.

Back when the spirit portal was first opened, and part of the city destroyed, no one thought they'd ever resolve the housing crisis, or be able to coexist with the presence of the spirits.

Now, it's a normal part of the city, beautiful and protected.

The air nomads look after the land, keeping it safe from anyone who might try to abuse it. That being said, it doesn't mean it's completely off limits. The portal is routinely used for travel, though it's heavily monitored.

Nowadays, people wishing to use the portals for easier access to the North and South poles are led through it on sky bison, escorted by the air nomads. This way, the public doesn't disturb the spirits too much.

Kind of like a flying spirit shuttle, and Kuroo couldn't resist.

He recalls Tsukishima's words about missing his home, about avoiding the reminders of it. But they both know it's hopeless. Tsukishima clings far more than he likes to admit, and what's wrong with that?

Tsukishima loves the North, and while he may not be able to go back, he's still allowed to enjoy what he can. Even if it hurts at first, Kuroo can't stand seeing the blond so homesick. There's no way the blond will ever truly be able to let it go, just as Kuroo has never been able to let his home go. Sometimes, the exposure to something one misses is as freeing as it is nostalgic, and he hopes Tsukishima agrees.

And who knows, maybe one day Kuroo can take him to Zaofu. It'll be good for both of them, a way to change...

More than anything, he wants Tsukishima to be happy.

Before Tsukishima can ask where exactly they're going, the crowd is being moved along, and Kuroo smugly keeps his mouth shut. Tsukishima takes it well though, nudging him slightly. The excitement in his face is stronger than his curiosity or fear, and Kuroo is overcome with the strongest need to kiss him.

It would be romantic, he thinks, sharing a first kiss beneath a spirit portal. However, he doesn't think they're ready, and he's more than okay with that.

Instead, as they're led onto the saddle of a bison, Kuroo grabs Tsukishima's hand. The blond takes it gratefully, and his sigh is shaky as he stumbles onto the bison, his fingers intertwining with Kuroo's. It feels so right, in a way which overwhelms Kuroo to no end. He's never felt this way before, and he grips the blond's hand tighter as they lift up into the air, the cold breeze rushing through them.

Tsukishima gasps, and they grip each other out of fear. They've never flown like this, not even on the new commercial planes. Even on the airship from Zaofu, Kuroo had taken a big sip of some sleep remedy.

When they realize their actions, they laugh, and the tension depletes. Kuroo isn't as afraid as back then, but he figures that's purely Tsukishima's doing.

The blond glances over the side of the saddle as they fly in, and while Kuroo watches the city disappear in a haze of gold, Tsukishima's gasp calls his attention to what's being revealed on the other side.

And oh, Kuroo really might cry.

He turns, and the world is born again.

The sunset in the spirit world is pink; it's the first thing he notices, and he wonders if it's like that 24/7. The land is endless, meadows stretching into groves and forests, littered with flowers and divided by rushing streams. He can hear them, even though they're far below him. They trickle and splash from the spirits at play beneath, and they cut up the landscape gently, trees lining the edges. There's a white fog which rests high up on the mountains in the distance, and Kuroo swears he sees them shift and glide over the horizon.

Dragon birds soar peacefully beside them, dipping low before pulling back up, creating an eternal breeze over the land. Kuroo wants nothing more than to step his toes into the steep grasses, to feel the cold river cleanse him.

But as quickly as it comes into view, it begins to disappear, and Kuroo looks over at Tsukishima instinctively.

This is it.

They approach two craters, each with a spirit portal at its center, and they fly directly into one. Kuroo holds his breath as Tsukishima's face twists in confusion and wonder, and then all he feels is the refreshing, biting chill of the south.

While everyone watches the lights and buildings come into view, Kuroo is trained on Tsukishima's face. The blond's shoulders sag, his eyes the widest Kuroo has ever seen, like he can't fathom the sights in front of him.

Kuroo has never seen the Southern Water Tribe, but he hears its come a long way. The festivals held there are some of the best, and he knows the tundra has its own kind of beauty to it, neverending.

Even still, it means nothing if Tsukishima can't appreciate it.

The blond's jaw quivers as he tries to think of something to say; his eyes grow mistier as they descend. If he makes Tsukishima cry, Kuroo will never forgive himself, but a terrible part of him wants to see what it looks like.

He only hopes they're grateful tears.

The bison's feet touch down into the ice, and people begin to slip off in excitement, on about things Kuroo has no clue about. Maybe Tsukishima will teach him, he prays for it.

Tsukishima finally looks at him, really looks, and he shakes his head slowly. "What...I..."

Quietly, uncertain, Kuroo whispers to him as he reaches out to take Tsukishima's other hand. The chill of the wind is unbearable, but he resists pulling his coat tighter around himself. "Surprise?"

His laugh is about as fake as his smile; the nerves are getting to him, and like always, they give way to rambling. "I..I'm sorry if this is too much. I know you said you avoided the south but I thought...if it's just a small visit you'd--we can leave if you want. We can--"

But Tsukishima doesn't hear all of it.

He's tugging Kuroo to his feet, and then the blond is off on his own, jumping off the bison and onto the fresh snow.

Like he can't wait, or he doesn't believe it, won't until he experiences it for himself.

When Tsukishima lands, and his feet hit the snow for what must be the first time in months, Kuroo can see the reality crash onto him, the relief spreading on his face. He stares out towards the walls of the city as he sinks to his knees.

It has to be freezing, but Kuroo knows the blond has never minded. The snow seeps into his clothes and stains them all over, but Tsukishima has never looked happier.

Kuroo walks up to him slowly, and takes in what he missed on the ride in.

It's...gorgeous, in all the ways Kuroo isn't used to. Zaofu  _knows_  it's beautiful, it flaunts it. But this...the simplicity is completely unaware of itself. The ice gleams off the cliffs, the domes of the abstract buildings aren't refined in the slightest, but they offer comfort, a community. Snow flurries in the wind and crunches beneath his feet, and there's an intoxicating smell coming from the direction all their fellow travelers had run off to.

There's definitely something going on, and the city is lit up with streamers and strings of lights, music drifting over the laughter of patrons. A frozen river chops the landscape, leading right to the explosion of lights.

Kuroo doesn't know what he's seeing, but Tsukishima must. The blond stands, still unable to speak, and laces his fingers in between Kuroo's.

Then at last, the metalbender can breathe a sigh a relief.

Tsukishima's voice isn't steady, or brave, but he looks at Kuroo anyways, eyes shining with evidence of unshed tears. "Thank you," he says, and it sounds as good as it always does.

Kuroo's face is burning, despite the cold, and Tsukishima laughs, poking at his cheek. Rude.

Kuroo swats him away playfully, giving Tsukishima the once over. He doesn't look like a waterbender, but maybe that's still too big of a step. Kuroo decides not to comment on it as he looks towards the city, eager to see what it has to offer.

"Ready?" Kuroo asks, and then his brow furrows, remembering he's not the expert here. "Though...I'm not really sure what's going on. I just heard it was a good time to come for a visit from some dock buddies."

Tsukishima snorts, nodding his head, and before he knows it, Kuroo is already being pulled along. The ice crunches louder, but it's oddly comforting. Kuroo has to resist building a snowball. Maybe later.

"They were right," Tsukishima says, and Kuroo can sense the joy in his voice. It's more rewarding than...anything really. "It's the Glacier Spirits Festival, basically a big carnival they hold every year for the winter solstice. It's supposed to be about uniting the North and South, but..."

Kuroo arches a brow. "But?"

The blond shrugs, and as he speaks, the intoxicating smell of bread and meat hits Kuroo's nostrils again.

"It's honestly just an excuse to eat terrible food," Tsukishima answers with a smirk, and Kuroo already knows he's going to love this. It's a good thing he didn't eat much earlier in the day.

Then, the blond's eyes widen, and he stops. "Oh."

"Hm?" Kuroo asks, but Tsukishima is already covering his beautiful hair with his oversized hood. It's...cute, and works surprisingly well in framing his features. Kuroo might be biased, but he could stare all day.

"People from the Northern Tribe might be here, better play it safe," he says, and Kuroo just nods in understanding. Before he can apologize for being so thoughtless, Tsukishima grins, and drags him down the city streets.

It's then Kuroo sees the the mix of people there. Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, and mostly Water Tribe. They blend right into the mix though, no one pays them any mind, too preoccupied with the cheer of the night.

Tsukishima doesn't seem bothered in the slightest by the inconvenience, and soon enough, Kuroo shuts off his thoughts, lost in the rows of carnival games and fried food. Soon enough, he finds the cold is barely noticeable.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* I love kurotsuki so much. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! I'll hopefully see y'all again soon, because I want to start writing in the new year asap ;) 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	6. nothing comes close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah I'm always excited to update this fic! Originally this chapter was supposed to be 10k, but that was...way too much, so I split it! Now I've got an extra week to catch up lol. I hope you guys enjoy! I really appreciate those of you who take the time to read this fic, it's important to me and means the world!
> 
> Thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

It's times like these Kuroo thanks his earthbending roots.

He plants his feet, and his muscles flex as he sends the hammer down onto the strength tester. The puck flies sky high until it strikes the bell at the very top of the tower, but Kuroo can feel the victory in his veins long before he looks up. His eyes finally follow it after it violently crashes at the top, sending down a rain of confetti. The carny stares, wide-eyed, but Kuroo is only focused on the selection of prizes above. Way ahead of himself, as usual, but he's won two or three stuffed prizes for Tsukishima already, and combined with the blond's winnings, it puts them at about six plushies.

They'll have to hash out the custody details later, but Kuroo definitely wants the eel hound.

The crowd around him stares in awe as the bell nearly shatters, the ring deafening over the loud machines and game stalls.

Kuroo is proud of himself, to say the least.

Triumphantly, he gestures to the sky bison plush, oversized with his tongue sticking out, and the carny gives it to him with little resistance. He also looks impressed, but Kuroo is more concerned with someone else's reaction.

Tsukishima's hands are clasped together, and Kuroo barely catches his look of surprise before it drops back into its normal, neutral state. It's as if the blond had raised his hands to clap, only to remember how uncool that would truly be.

It's so utterly ridiculous, and Kuroo knows it won't last long.

He holds up the stuffed toy, and almost can't believe how soft it is, and Tsukishima's eyes are glowing again in seconds. He grabs it, squeezing it tight, and Kuroo prays he remembers this image for the rest of his existence.

The rest of their haul sits at Tsukishima's feet, all plushies: an eel hound, a platypus bear, two sabertooth moose lions (different colors), and a rabaroo. Needless to say, he thinks they have enough.

Coupled with the fact they've both eaten double their weight in junk food, Kuroo knows a breather is in order.

Tsukishima laughs, and a small burp escapes him, evidence of Kuroo's suspicions. Again, he's surprised how much the blond will eat when he truly likes the food. Tsukishima brings his hand up to his mouth too late, and the small sound escapes, but Kuroo doesn't judge him.

They both laugh a second later, and then the blond is grimacing at a stand selling fried fish.

"How about we go sit somewhere? If I see any more food I might puke," Tsukishima offers, and Kuroo is already picking up three of the massive plushies in his arms. It must look as silly as it feels, because Tsukishima tries his best to suppress a laugh.

It fails, horribly, and Kuroo is glad.

Kuroo kicks a bit of snow at Tsukishima's boots, but the blond doesn't seem to mind at all. He takes it in stride as he leads Kuroo away with his own arm full of fluff, and Kuroo is somewhat saddened by the thought of the blond having to part with the snow soon. He welcomes it, every scuff against his boots, or flurry in his hair.

It's paradise to him, Kuroo realizes, and he wonders if maybe it could be paradise for him too.

If it wasn't for work and responsibilities, Kuroo would gladly keep them here forever.

He's yet to see the blond so at peace, so at one with everything on the icy frontier. And this isn't even his home tribe. Kuroo's shoulders sag a little as his eyes follow Tsukishima's back, the green tunic like moss on the snow, and wonders if they'll be able to visit again soon.

He'll make it happen, if it makes Tsukishima bask like this.

He doesn't notice until they're far away that Tsukishima has led him a good distance from the festivities. When he looks back, the lights are a little smaller, the noises subdued. They're on a mostly empty mound of snow now, apart from a few couples whispering amongst themselves. Tsukishima turns, his smile as calm as the open sea, and Kuroo tunes his ears in just in time to catch his words.

It's hard, when Tsukishima's pride resounds so loud.

"Well, what do you think?" Tsukishima asks, but there's an edge of confidence there, like he already knows what Kuroo will think. But Kuroo can't take his eyes off of him. After all, what's better than this?

Confused, Kuroo reluctantly pries his eyes away from the blond's face, up to the sky, and all his plushies hit the snow.

The lights envelop the sky, dancing waves of candy green and rich purples. They undulate, covering the snowy landscape like a blanket, and Kuroo feels the sudden urge to reach his hand up. As if the lights were a river, ready to wash over and through his fingers. The rays are stunning, stretching far into the sky until the colors ombre and fade into nothing but the stars. Above, the sky is as black as meteorite, the stars blinding.

Kuroo's jaw drops, and he can vaguely hear the hum of Tsukishima's satisfaction, but he feels too stuck in a trance to react right away. He's heard rumors of the northern and southern lights, of their infinite elegance and beauty, but he never thought he'd ever see them.

He swallows the lump in his throat as Tsukishima plops down onto a nearby tarp, never taking his eyes off the sky above.

Kuroo wants to kiss him, hug him,  _thank_  him. He feels like he's just witnessed one of the few wonders of the world, next to someone more brilliant than the moon.

Tsukishima isn't of this earth, Kuroo is convinced, and yet the blond chooses to spend his time with Kuroo. He'll never stop feeling lucky, for having someone to show him things he's never dreamed of exploring.

Kuroo manages to look away, and it's a war, deciding whether or not to stare at the lights or Tsukishima. They're on equal footing from looks alone, but the emotion in Tsukishima's eyes always wins, as does the fierceness, the determination.

This time, it's wistfulness. Tsukishima stares up at the sky, and Kuroo doesn't like the smile on his face. It's far too sad, far too pained at the corners. "It never gets old, though I grew up with the northern lights. Even when I hated my brother or wanted to run away from my dad, the lights kept me grounded."

Ah, so in the end there's no escape. Memories are a powerful thing, good or bad. It’s one of the only times Tsukishima has mentioned his family, but Kuroo is grateful for the vulnerability.

Tsukishima's connection may not be to _these_ lights, on the opposite side of the world, but...

Kuroo tilts his head, a dangerous question on his mind. Somehow, he's not afraid. He wraps his hand around Tsukishima's, the touch becoming more and more comfortable.

"Are the northern lights...better?" He asks, slow and unsure.

_Because I think these are gorgeous._

He doesn't say it, but he thinks Tsukishima must sense it. The blond grew up with the lights yes, but to Kuroo they're totally new, and that's worthy of appreciation. Tsukishima's head jerks in surprise, and Kuroo can tell his instinctual response is to say yes.

But the blond is rational, smart, and he stops himself. There's the impulsive answer, but then there's the healing one.

Tsukishima just stares as he thinks, long and hard, the machinery in his head working until the cogs come to a complete standstill. Kuroo doesn't rush him, just meets the stare head on.

He knows this is hard on the blond, but anything to make him see that things will be okay is enough to convince Kuroo to push him a little.

In a way, Kuroo's asking a lot of different questions with just the one. He's comparing the north to the south, forcing Tsukishima to analyze his place between the two. Yes, he's from the north, but he can make a home, can make  _memories_ , anywhere.

Maybe it’s what he needs too.

Tsukishima looks down at their hands, joined together, and after a few agonizing seconds, he shakes his head. "No," he breathes, like it's the most freeing realization in the world.

It's louder than the gusts of chilly wind; it almost stops time. Like the spirits are listening, the ones soaring between the spaces of the lights.

Cathartic.

Kuroo tries not to tackle him, but when Tsukishima lifts his head, smile so gentle, he can't stop his heart from beating a mile a minute. "I don't think they are."

Then, as if he's not strong enough to handle that admission, Tsukishima crumbles. It's fine, because Kuroo is more than okay with catching him.

Tsukishima's head leans against Kuroo's chest, his weight completely collapsing onto him, and Kuroo cherishes it, takes it all. He wraps his arm around Tsukishima like he's always meant to be there, at his side. His hand rests on the other's waist as Tsukishima's arms curl around his torso, and Kuroo rubs his cheek on the top of the blond's head. His hair is soft, but then, of course it is.

Kuroo sighs, his gaze rising back to the lights as the warmth from Tsukishima's body seeps into him, and doesn't know how he'll ever cope with this coming to an end.

Tsukishima cuddles up to him with a shiver, and Kuroo thanks the spirits again for being blessed with a warm body.

He looks behind him, to their piles of plushies, to the carnival stalls, and the rays of multicolored lights which hover above them. It's so much, too much he can't even express it, but he squeezes Tsukishima tighter, the only thing he can think of to properly accompany his words. "Thanks Kei," he tries out for the first time, and the blond's breath hitches delightfully until he exhales, content as he rubs his face into Kuroo coat.

"For what?" the blond asks, and Kuroo has to laugh. What did he think? That Kuroo had just been humoring him all night?

Kuroo lies back on the tarp, taking Tsukishima with him, and he grins up at the stars. "For showing me this...the water tribe culture...everything."

He's delirious, from both the cold and the joy he feels, but he gets his message across. He means it too, and with Tsukishima at his side, he knows he'll just keep learning more.

Tsukishima peeks up at him from where he lies on Kuroo's chest, mouth covered by his arms as he's too lazy to raise his head. Something in his eyes twinkle, and Kuroo is left stunned all over again. "Hm, thanks to you too I guess."

Kuroo arches a brow, a silent 'for what?'

He's pretty sure he knows, since he's the one who took them on this date, but he likes being a little shit when Tsukishima is involved. It's kind of becoming their thing.

Yet, Tsukishima always surprises him. The blond's expression stays steady, at peace, and his eyes close to soak it up in full. There's no playful annoyance to be found, only a deep-seated gratefulness which makes Kuroo thank everything in the universe for bringing them together.

"For appreciating it," the blond whispers, and it comes from deep in his heart, warm enough to melt the ice.

Kuroo's heart clenches, but his movements aren't shaky. He threads his hand through Tsukishima's hair, and keeps it there, content with being sprawled out underneath the endless glimmers.

\--

Unfortunately, Kuroo learns he can’t be content with everything.

When he drops Tsukishima off late in the night, some lost time before morning peeks above the mountains, he fixates on it.

The betrothal necklace.

It really is stunning, the care which went into carving it is hard to overlook. Closer, Kuroo can see the two overlapping sea shells, the starfish etched into the bottom of the base. The band is a dark blue, with a pop of gold metal fixing the pendant to it. There's no way it was made overnight; it's the work of someone who tried again and again to make it perfect.

Connecting that image to Daishou and Tsukishima...

Kuroo hates it.

It's such a strong thought it shocks him, almost to the point where he forgets to mutter a heartfelt goodnight to his...his  _boyfriend_.

Wow.

At least that thought is enough to send him into a state of euphoria for a moment, and he lets his fingers slowly untangle from Tsukishima's, neither of them wanting to part.

It's late though, and eventually Tsukishima's shy gaze disappears behind a closed door.

Kuroo stands there for a second, soaking up the night. If he could, he'd live it all again, and has to stop himself from planning their next date immediately. It won't matter; doing anything with Tsukishima proves to be a good time.

Kuroo walks slowly back home, reluctant to be alone in his small apartment where the neighbors fight and all his stuff from Zaofu sits in boxes. After tonight, he thinks he might start unpacking those, little by little.

Maybe Tsukishima will help him.

He breathes in the crisp night air, remembers Tsukishima's warmth seeping into him, and feels infinitely lighter.

Even still, the image of the betrothal necklace eats away at him bit by bit as the night goes on. He knows it shouldn't; Tsukishima hardly seems aware of it half the time, barely touches it or admires it. Meanwhile, Kuroo has caught the blond playing with the talisman he made for him several times. He always stares at it fondly, unlike the necklace. It's like it's just part of him, not like a marriage item, but in the same mundane way someone views a nice shirt or pair of pants.

Like it's not special, but he still won't take it off.

Maybe Tsukishima just doesn't see it that way anymore, as evidence of his prearranged union, but Kuroo can't separate it. He's more than bothered, and he wants more than anything for Tsukishima to take the thing off.

It makes him feel icky inside, but...he can't help part of his jealousy. Tsukishima likes  _him_ , not Daishou, so why?

Coupled with the secretiveness the blond displays around the waterbender...it makes Kuroo want to bend a steel beam in half.

It's just a necklace though, and what does he know?

Maybe he has a right to ask, now that he and Tsukishima are dating, but the last thing he wants is to look like the stereotypical possessive prick.

More than that...

He hates being this angry for no reason; being enraged at the police or the crimes in the city is completely different from this kind of stress. He knows it's childish, and yet he can't shake it; it follows him into the next day, when he's helping Tsukishima set up some stands in the market.

The blond is glowing, whether he knows it or not, and Kuroo can't handle the thought of taking that away from him.

But...they're dating now, and more than that, they're friends. Kuroo can speak his mind, right?

He hopes so.

Kuroo breathes, and makes sure the poles of one of the stands are firmly planted, encasing some rock around them with a flick of his hands. That way, if there are protesters, they won't be so easy to knock over.

Asahi thanks him as he trots off to help some others set up, and Tsukishima is by his side in no time.

Tsukishima smiles at the work, watching every move of Kuroo's bending as usual. But instead of pride, Kuroo feels it become hard to swallow. Now or never, he thinks, now that they're mostly alone.

_And_  they're in public, so if he can just bring this up as casually as possible...

"What is it?" Tsukishima's voice interrupts Kuroo before he can get a sound out, and the metalbender's head shoots up, and he knows he's already fucked up big time.

Tsukishima's expression is guarded again, kind of like when they first met, but with an extra layer of vulnerability. Kuroo realizes he hasn't been talking much, too consumed in his own head, and knows it must've made Tsukishima feel ignored.

Dammit.

The blond shrugs. "You've had this weird look on your face for a while now. Did I..."

Kuroo surges up in an instant, desperate to save this conversation somewhat before it goes completely off the rails. This isn't Tsukishima's fault, just Kuroo's own insecurities...

"No!" he says, his hands already around Tsukishima's arms, pulling him close. He delights in the way his muscles relax. "No, it's...it's stupid..."

Tsukishima arches a brow, and Kuroo tries not to put any whine into his question. "Can I ask you something?"

Tsukishima is giving him a look very reminiscent of "duh," and Kuroo laughs. He should've known better. Regardless, the blond is cautious as he nods, and Kuroo apologizes profusely in his head.

"It's going to sound...terrible but, your necklace...I guess it sort of makes me confused?" Kuroo manages to force out, and it sounds as pathetic as in his thoughts, like the worries of a high schooler. At least he didn’t _say_ ‘uncomfortable,’ though that’s what it is.

_God, bury me in a rock slide._

Tsukishima doesn't even tense in his arms, that's how much the shock must hit him, but more than shock it's almost...forgetfulness.

Like it's the last thing Tsukishima anticipated Kuroo to say.

His fingers fly up to the necklace, fumbling with it as if to remind himself it's there at all. It makes Kuroo feel even smaller about asking in the first place, foolish.

It feels even worse when relief mixes with his shame, because the necklace is truly not on the blond's mind at all.

"How come?" Tsukishima asks, defensive, and Kuroo swallows.

Even still, he needs to address this issue, he wants to know Tsukishima's reaction.

Kuroo inhales. "Well, it's from Daishou...I don't know, it's got a lot of romantic feelings attached to it."

And he  _knows_  it does. He knows that much about Water Tribe culture, he's seen the way eyes flick to Tsukishima's neck when they're walking around the city.

Tsukishima flinches, the denial pouring forth no problem. His eyes narrow, disbelieving, like he hadn't communicated his stance on this enough. He doesn't get it. "You know I don't see it that way--"

"Well I do," Kuroo says,  _finally_. It's a load off his shoulders, even as he tries not to wince. "I'm sorry but, I can't get past it, every time I look at it. I've tried! But...."

_But_.

He doesn't know what else to say. Or he does, but doesn't know if he should.

The truth is out, but it might not be enough, and hesitantly, he grabs Tsukishima's hand. Thankfully, he doesn't pull away, but there's no reciprocation as the blond stares at the ground.

For the longest time, Tsukishima is silent.

Kuroo gets past the rest of his pride, and walks into dangerous territory. "Is there any way you'd consider...taking it off?"

It's sounds so terrible, fuck.

Tsukishima's reaction isn't violent, or even angry.

Kuroo tenses up, gripping Tsukishima's hand. "Wait...no, I--"

"No...I understand," Tsukishima whispers, lifting his head. There's conflict there, like he'd never thought of this being a problem. It's almost cute, how Tsukishima likes to prepare for any possible situation. Now, he looks lost, but more than that...apologetic.

It melts Kuroo on the spot.

Eventually, Tsukishima nods at nothing in particular, and tells his own truth. "I just, I need to think."

_"I don't know."_

That's what Kuroo hears.

He wants to say a lot of things, a lot of contradictory things. He wants to ask why it's such a big deal, but he also wants to beg Tsukishima to forget he ever brought it up.

With one last squeeze of Kuroo's hand, Tsukishima pulls away, and Kuroo considers opening his mouth.

However, even he knows that's the end of the conversation, and they silently return to their work, the air spoiled.

\--

Kuroo has an apology on the tip of his tongue the next night as he waits on Tsukishima's doorstep, but he never gets the chance to use it.

When the door opens, revealing Tsukishima, all words die in his throat.

There on his neck, is a new, generic piece of Earth Kingdom jewelry. It's a dark green band to match the rest of Tsukishima's outfit, decorated with one opal in the middle.

It's cute, but nothing special.

It's not the betrothal necklace.

Kuroo's jaw drops a little, vague sounds escaping his lips as Tsukishima smiles, but in the end, he thinks maybe words aren't in order.

Tsukishima's eyes dart shyly to the ground and back up, and he touches the necklace gingerly. Kuroo might cry.

"Do you like it?" the blond asks, and there's so much more there. Hell, he could be wearing some yarn for all Kuroo cares.

The point is, Tsukishima did this for Kuroo. He didn't have to...

It's a silent, affectionate way of apologizing, and the metalbender adores him for it.

Rather than answer, he pulls Tsukishima close, and kisses him for the first time.

He can't help it.

Tsukishima whimpers against the kiss, and then melts into it. His hands wrap around Kuroo's shoulders, cold, and it makes Kuroo pull him closer. Tsukishima deserves to be warm.

He surges up into Kuroo, pushing himself up to his full height, but Kuroo doesn't mind being short in the slightest. He's strong enough to hold Tsukishima, to twirl him gently, and that's more than enough.

The kiss isn't particularly deep, but it's as passionate as one, long and searching. They pull back every now and again, only to push their lips back together, gentle sounds floating into the chilly air.

Tsukishima's lips are soft, and he wraps a hand around the back of his neck, feeling some of the blond's shaggy hair tickle his fingertips.

It's amazing.

Kuroo laughs into each kiss, especially when the tip of Tsukishima's nose bumps against his, and it's like he's in heaven.

How he resisted this for so long, he doesn't get.

When they pull back, Tsukishima exhales heavily, and their pants are visible in the air as they puff out. It's exhilarating when the blond bites his lip, his head tilting in the direction of his home. "I um...I know we were going to dinner but...Daishou won't be home for a while, so..."

Kuroo is almost ashamed of how long it takes him to get the hint.

He looks behind Tsukishima to his empty living room, feels the heat between them, and his mind is made up.

Kuroo pulls Tsukishima into another laughter filled kiss, and then he's being ushered into the apartment, the door slamming behind him.

\--

Kuroo isn't really afraid to admit it, he feels pretty good about himself.

By the time he's swaying out of Tsukishima's apartment, high on the feeling of Tsukishima's bare skin against his, it's late. The days of bliss have begun to melt together, and he doesn't care at all. His belly is full with a home cooked meal, courtesy of his boyfriend, and he feels positively boneless from their...activities.

Kuroo stretches his hands to the sky as he walks. Man, if Daishou hadn't shown up during dinner and complained about wanting some quiet, Kuroo might've been able to hide in the blond's room to stay the night.

Oh well, next time.

The thought of "next time" makes him sigh, and he shamelessly lets his mind replay images of Tsukishima from the night, whether innocent or not.

However, when he nears the alleys adjacent to his building, he halts. There’s a shuffle of steps, sharp noises which fade in and out. It’s only as Kuroo slows that he realizes they’re not just any noises. There’s people talking, and not exactly about everyday things.

Kuroo squints, and well, his memory is good when it comes to people and their voices. These ones…

They're hushed, whispered yells, almost pleading.

Quietly, Kuroo moves along the wall, peering around the corner, and just as he suspected, two figures appear.

It spells trouble, but sadly, Kuroo isn't surprised.

Against the brick wall, barely visible under the low lamplight, stands Terushima Yuuji, crouched over the huddled form of Goshiki Tsutomu. An impressive feat, given Goshiki's superior height, but something about Terushima has always screamed  _towering_.

The airbender's coat is as bright as the sun, less yellow, more gold. It stands out over his dark waistcoat, and amber-like gems shine in his ears. A facet of his culture he must've kept, along with an embroidered collar and cuffs, the mark of the air nation stitched precisely. The edges of his airbender tattoos peek out underneath his long sleeves, the blue matching the one on his forehead.

An unlikely master, a regrettable one. At least, Kuroo thinks so.

Kuroo doesn't even think of walking away. He's never been afraid of the gangs in the area, especially not after all the police crackdowns, but somehow, the roaches still climb out of the ashes. As secretive and hidden as they are now, they exist, polluting every corner of the city. The largest is still no doubt the Triple Threats, has been for generations.

Kuroo enjoys making fun of them to this day, since they never bothered to change their name even after the return of airbenders.

Terushima is a fine example of one, an airbender with a rebellious streak. Strong enough to leave the renewed air temple he called home, and pursue a life of crime.

Kuroo glares; any business involving Terushima can't be good.

Goshiki, true to his firebending nature, twitches in place. It's hard, Kuroo knows, to stand so still and motionless in the face of danger. The young firebender's eyes dance with excitement and paranoia, plain as day even from where Kuroo stands.

What is he doing here? The guy works at the power plant nearest the docks, but Kuroo sees him around enough, even talks to him on the street sometimes.

He remembers Goshiki has family from the tribes, and things start clearing themselves up. Already, Kuroo has a suspicion of what this is about, but he hopes it isn't true.

Goshiki is mumbling something to the airebender, shaking his head, and it takes Kuroo only a few more seconds of watching to realize he's pleading.

Something about that pisses him off. Doesn't matter how well Kuroo knows him, no one in his community pleads with Triple Threats.

Kuroo steps into view, stalking in the shadows, and slowly the voices become clearer.

"Please, just a little longer? I can come up with the money somehow," Goshiki whispers, and Terushima, for whatever reason, actually looks sorry. He glares at the brick wall behind Goshiki's head, clicking his tongue.

"Listen, it's not about money anymore," Terushima replies, shaking his head. He brings a hand up to slick through his combed hair, the most disheveled Kuroo has ever seen it. Terushima normally walks the city as a picture of confidence and suave movements, as most gang members do, but this is different. "The waterbender investigations are getting too crazy, Triple Threats want nothing to do with it."

Desperate, Goshiki grabs the front of Terushima's coat, uncaring of the consequences. Terushima again, makes no move to hurt him. Goshiki leans in, begging. "But...all these people--"

"There's nothing I can do anymore, they gotta find their own protection, that's--"

Kuroo finally takes one step too close it seems.

Terushima turns in such a sharp movement, the wind kicks up from under his feet, and Kuroo nearly trips. It's a rush, a typhoon in his ears. He regains his footing quickly, and before he himself is even aware of his instincts, his metal armbands are off and sharpened, poised to strike.

Goshiki's gasp is cut off from the shock, voice stolen. The movements are so brisk, he stumbles, back hitting the wall. His brown eyes flash in brief recognition when they land on Kuroo, and then shame. "K-Kuroo--"

Yet, Kuroo can't be too concerned with him. Terushima's hands are frozen in the air, ready to strike, and the narrow alleyway doesn't give Kuroo much room to dodge the potential blasts of wind.

But for once, the airbender doesn't want a fight. He stares for a moment longer before there's a shift in his demeanor, and Kuroo doesn't know if he prefers it.

Terushima exhales shakily, his glare gradually morphing into a shit eating grin; Kuroo can see a touch of jewelry on his tongue. Brave, given Kuroo could cut him to pieces or pull it right from his mouth, but maybe Terushima isn't that dumb.

"Whoa there, someone is getting ahead of himself," Terushima interrupts his thoughts, sticking out his tongue, and oh, Kuroo wishes he was that mean... "It's acrylic."

Ah, so he isn't that dumb. What a shame.

Kuroo doesn't grace him with small talk though. He growls, and the metal around him tilts higher, menacing. "What are you doing here? The police--"

"Are far too busy chipping old ladies from the Water Tribe to worry about me," Terushima sings back, and the accuracy of his statement makes bile collect in the back of Kuroo's throat. Right, because this city is a fucking joke.

Kuroo scowls, but doesn't deny that. He knows Terushima will walk free for a long time, like all the Triple Threats. It's not right, but in the midst of the madness, Kuroo doesn't care. "Just leave Goshiki alone and get out of here," he demands instead, if only to spare the firebender.

Terushima, the bastard,  _laughs_.

"Oh man, Kuroo was it? You're as delusional as the public." Terushima stands his ground, firm enough to tell Kuroo he's prepared for an ambush, but lowers his hands. Maybe it's simply for the drama, since one of his hands flies to his chest, affronted. "Goshiki called  _me_  here."

Kuroo's eyes widen, his fears confirmed. Of all the things...

His gaze turns to the young firebender, who bows his head. It's the most burnt out he's ever looked, regrettable and beaten.

"What?" Kuroo asks. He simply can't believe this, refuses to.

But Goshiki's voice isn't one of denial, it's just small and lost. It fluctuates like a current, eventually dissolving into nothing. "I just...I have friends and family from the Water Tribes, they need protection and this...this seemed like the only way and I'm…I'm sorry."

The words end on a whisper, and Kuroo can't bring himself to be angry. This isn't Goshiki's fault, his heart is in the right place, but Kuroo wishes it didn't have to come to this. Paying gangs to protect waterbenders from persecution? What next?

Kuroo, defeated, drops his hands, the metal clinging back to his wrists. This isn't worth the fight, but he hopes this is a one time thing. He doesn't want to lose his will to resist, not when it counts.

Goshiki sighs in relief as the tension dissipates, but Kuroo wishes he could do the same. More than anything, he wants to crawl back to Tsukishima's place and fall into the blond's arms, but it's not a reality.

He doesn't know what he expects next. Maybe for Terushima to laugh, or scoff, but the airbender reclaims his attention with a sobering seriousness, not a sprinkle of laughter to be found.

"Yeah, well," Terushima says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The frown is back, and his posture finally relaxes completely, as if he can't be bothered to expend fighting power. Guess the vibe of the city has everyone feeling stressed, even the gangs. "As I told him, the Triple Threats can no longer guarantee protection, that's just how it goes."

Kuroo scoffs, but even that sounds half-assed and tired. "What, bored of stealing money from desperate citizens?"

"You know, you'd be advised to not pick a fight with me here," Terushima warns, though it's obvious neither of them are in a mood to exchange blows. Terushima, as usual, is all talk. Though, Kuroo isn't much better these days. "You're not exactly in a good situation."

Before Kuroo can drum up the energy to respond, Terushima continues, already half turned away, back towards the shadows where he belongs. "And anyways, I don't need a fight, not now."

"Shocking," Kuroo mutters, but he lets the airbender distance himself. He's determined to not let this ruin his night; a beautiful night, a beacon in a dark void of the city's history. It's hard to remain positive, he finds.

Especially when more than anything, he wishes he could find the killer and settle things himself, turn the guy in. Only then would some of this chaos come to an end, only then could the city work on fixing itself.

Then maybe, no one would have to be afraid. Goshiki. Asahi.

_Tsukishima_.

Big dreams, he thinks.

As if sensing them, Terushima laughs, barely audible.

"Hey, say what you will, the city is already at war without us duking it out." Terushima's ghost of a smile returns, promising things Kuroo wants no part of. Then he turns around, and not even the bright gold of his coat stands a chance against the darkness. The expensive shoes click along the cobblestone, until suddenly, Kuroo hears nothing. Light on his feet, as expected.

"See you around, but ya know, hopefully not." A pause, followed by a grimace on the young airbender's face. "And oh, honestly I don't see why waterbenders need protection. They seem pretty ruthless as is."

The statements hangs heavy for a few beats of Kuroo's heart. Then, Terushima is gone.

Ruthless...

Kuroo remembers the probending match, the victim reports in the newspaper...

Terushima isn't far off, but something about it makes Kuroo's skin crawl; wrong, uncertain.

Regardless, he doesn't let himself think about it anymore.

It's strange, how as soon as Terushima's presence disappears, the street lights seem brighter, the city noises louder. Kuroo blinks, taking it in, and knows in his heart no more than five minutes must've passed. Still, it felt like an eternity, and he finally registers Goshiki approaching him after a few seconds.

Ah, man.

Kuroo hopes the guy doesn't feel too guilty about all this, honestly, if Kuroo were more desperate, he might've gone to any lengths.

With hands clasped, Goshiki begins to plead, and Kuroo is sure sick of it. "Kuroo, please don't--"

"No, it's okay," Kuroo says immediately, and the intensity of it makes Goshiki drop everything. The relief which crosses his features is enough for Kuroo. With his last words, he can't help but think of Tsukishima, and all he'd do for him.

It scares him, but he wants to keep the blond safe, no matter what. For now though...

"I understand. But not again, okay?" Kuroo fixes Goshiki with a hard look for as long as it takes to sink in, and then Goshiki is nodding.

It's only when the firebender's usual smile returns that Kuroo finds himself at peace. The good feelings of the night aren’t completely forgotten.

Despite that, he catches the way Goshiki looks down the alley, the ghost of Terushima still in the air. Or perhaps it's his overpowering cologne, whichever.

"You know, I'm surprised he agreed to help me at all," Goshiki says, and he truly sounds confused. Either the kid is too innocent, or shaken up.

"Well the Triple Threats will do anything for money," Kuroo reminds him, in case it's either of those. But Goshiki doesn't look embarrassed, doesn't correct himself. His eyes stay fixed on the spot Terushima used to be, and his next words are the first crack in Kuroo's ignorance, the shattering of a grand illusion.

Goshiki shakes his head, his thoughts giving Kuroo the first clue he needs, for better or worse. "Yeah but, I don't know. Last time I checked, Terushima didn't really like waterbenders."

Kuroo freezes on the spot.

Goshiki laughs it off, like it's nothing, but it's dangerous. So dangerous, Kuroo wishes he'd never heard it.

He won't do that though, because his brain is already working. The cogs are turning, the connections making themselves without any of his say. Some probably aren't even reliable, and yet...

Tsukishima flashes to the front of his mind, Daishou too.

All the suffering, all the hiding.

Kuroo had said it himself. If he could just find the killer, all their burdens would lessen, and every step towards finding the killer is indeed a worthy one.

Kuroo swallows, and the suspicion cements itself in his mind before he can stop it.

"You don't say..." Kuroo muses to himself, and, the first inkling of justice gleams over the far off horizon.

It's idealistic, another big dream, but he'll chase it like he always does.

In the distance, sirens fill the air, getting closer and closer. Squeaking, Goshiki stiffens like a board, eyes frantic. "Curfew...shit! We gotta go!"

_Shit_.

Kuroo is pulled from his thoughts, but he's grateful one of them remembered in time. He does not need a fine on his record, not that he's likely to get stopped in the first place.

In the back of his head, a voice tells him there's scarier things out there right now than the police, but he's starting to doubt it.

If Terushima is in any way to blame, he chose to spare them, and Kuroo shudders at the thought.

Goshiki pulls his hood around himself, feet already carrying him down the alley as he waves a quick goodbye. "I'll see you later Kuroo! Thanks!"

"Yeah, see you," Kuroo says, but the worry in his tone isn't the same anymore. There's a lot to dread, he realizes, but he won't be another victim, not in any sense of the word. And he won't let those around him fall prey either, not if he can help it.

With a quick glance out at the road, he's running as fast as he can, away from fears and flashing lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are much appreciated, and I can't wait for next chapter ;)))
> 
> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole) for more updates!


	7. this is the start of how it all ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vibrates* I've been waiting to post this chapter for ages and ages so sdjfn;s I really hope you all enjoy it ;)
> 
> Thanks [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

As Kuroo has come to realize, things often get worse before they get better. No matter what he does, time moves quickly with no signs of stopping.

It comes as a shock to both of them, when the radio scratches out a breaking news bulletin while Kuroo is relaxing at Tsukishima's home.

_"This just in, another attack out of Avatar Atsumu Square."_

Kuroo hears Tsukishima drop a plate in the kitchen, and he's ashamed for not moving to help him. Stunned, he can't do much of anything except turn up the radio, and it's like he can hear the nerves of the city's waterbenders collectively spike.

The news report continues, and Kuroo feels the couch dip next to him, and without needing to be prompted, he falls into Tsukishima's side.

_"Some time in the early hours of the morning, police responded to a call about vandalism to the young Avatar's statue. The scene is currently being taped off to the public, but early reports claim the statue was cut with ice across the chest, with a clear message left spray painted on the base. It's clear now this attack is separate from the spree of killings currently plaguing the city."_

Kuroo leans back at the words, and he and Tsukishima share a dumbfounded look, the shock plain as day. What?

Kuroo's fears of a copycat are somewhat put at ease as the report continues, but they're replaced by new concerns, just as formidable.

He wants to punch whatever drunk or angry idiot did this, too caught up in their own feelings to understand how terribly it would impact all of them.

_"A callout to police and the absent Avatar, the perpetrator demands justice not only for the killer's victims, but the chipped waterbenders as well. Such an attack is clearly an extreme resentment of the city's handling of the crime, and it has the public asking once more, when will this end? We go now to Oikawa Tooru, the mastermind behind the anti-bending chips."_

Ah, of course. The city's first response would be to add fuel to the fire, to crack down on waterbenders more without seeing the real problems underneath the surface. He hates it.

Kuroo's hands tighten into fists when he feels Tsukishima jolt against him, his hand flying to Kuroo's wrist for support. Afraid. Tsukishima should never be afraid, and he's not even a bender. It makes Kuroo sick.

At least Oikawa is on the side of the waterbenders, if he wasn't...

Kuroo doesn't want to think about it.

He listens as reporters bombard the inventor.

_"Oikawa-san, now that it's clear more waterbenders are beginning to act out, will you be issuing more anti-bending chips to the police force?"_

If Kuroo didn't know any better, he'd say the slam he hears is Oikawa's fist hitting the podium. Good.

_"Absolutely not. The citizen responsible for this particular attack and their motive behind it are a direct result of the misuse of **my** technology. Waterbenders are scared and anxious, and while I do not condone the attack of Avatar Atsumu's statue, inducing more fear will not accomplish anything."_

_"So you agree with the criminal? The police are at fault?"_

_"No! That's not what I said, so don't you even **try**  to twist my words. I'm sure the police are doing everything in their power in a terrible situation, but the last thing they need is to make it worse by throwing  **my**  chips at every waterbender they can. If this prejudice continues, more disgruntled public stunts like this will become the norm, and the killer will never be found. As a city, we need to clean ourselves up before we can extract any kind of justice. No further questions."_

The crowd erupts into questions even as the broadcast fades out with the same news bulletin, and Kuroo feels Tsukishima slump against him as he switches off the radio. Well, the anti-bending chips will still be a problem, no doubt, but at least they'll be in fewer supply.

Having Oikawa fighting for the people is a step in the right direction, given his influence, but even he can only do so much. Kuroo almost feels bad.

The inventor snapped at the reporters, his anger justified in every way. Yet, Kuroo knows the next day's paper will be a direct attack on him and his unprofessional behavior, instead of covering the things that matter.

His husband Ushijima will surely get flack as well, death threats maybe...

It's not right, but at least they're strong. They'll endure, just like the dock communities will have to...

Kuroo looks beside him, where Tsukishima has pulled his legs up onto the couch, huddling. It's not as comfy as it usually looks. It's as if his boyfriend wants to disappear, to be swallowed up by the fabric, and he can't bear it.

Gently, Kuroo pulls him close, and it only takes him a few seconds to realize his boyfriend is shaking.

Tsukishima, as cold as he likes to seem, cares a great deal. None of this truly affects him. He's hiding in plain sight, not a hint of Water Tribe on him, but it doesn't change the anxiety. His people, his culture is under attack.

Daishou is at risk, and his stubbornness may very well cost him his bending one of these days.

Kuroo wants to make all that pain go away, but he also wants to beat someone up. The one who vandalized the Avatar's statue, the press, the police, anyone. Maybe even Daishou, for being so stubborn.

But, Kuroo can't blame him either. It's not right for Tsukishima and Daishou to have to hide, why should they?

The anger reaches a boiling point as quickly as it disappears. Kuroo's first priority will always be Tsukishima.

He untangles the blond until they're lounging on the couch, Tsukishima pressed firmly against his chest. It reminds Kuroo of their date to the south, a time which feels so far away now.

He knows nothing will really help, not now, but he wants to try.

Jostling Tsukishima gently, he kisses the top of his head, and keeps his voice at a whisper. Outside might be a dangerous place, but it's a distracting one, filled with noise and food which can dull some of the pain. Besides, he'll protect Tsukishima no matter what. With how he feels, not even bloodbending can control him.

"Hey, why don't we go to dinner? Your favorite, my treat," Kuroo says, and the silence which fills the room almost makes him give up. Tsukishima is motionless, too quiet, and Kuroo falters. He tried. If Tsukishima wants to stay in like this, then who is he to fight him?

But a second later, Tsukishima is nodding, weakly, but still. The effort to meet the world head on burns inside him a little bit, and that's all Kuroo can ask for. He smiles, and kisses his boyfriend's forehead again, as if enough times will make all the hurt evaporate into steam.

\--

But the promise of sea crab and seaweed noodles doesn't fix everything this time.

The streets are loud with protests and police cars, crowded with people searching for something else to be upset about. He doesn't want to deal with it, so Kuroo ends up taking Tsukishima through the back streets. 

It's not exactly romantic. The alleys are dark and littered with trash, evidence of police neglecting other spheres of the city. The lamps flicker, some bent from hit and runs, but the roads are mostly empty. Gangs aren't even brave enough to be out and about right now.

The last thing Tsukishima needs is to feel more overwhelmed by swarms of people, whether they're worried, angry, or a mix of the two. He's got enough to deal with.

Again, Kuroo finds himself relieved Daishou wasn't home. He doesn't know if Tsukishima can keep his cool in the face of a debate with the stubborn waterbender.

No doubt, Daishou has heard what's going on, and if he's smart, he's on his way home.

At least Kuroo blends in, and as long as Tsukishima is by his side, he won't let anything happen.

Yet, even with the desolate atmosphere and the promise of dinner, Kuroo notices Tsukishima's discomfort. He hasn't stopped fidgeting with his hands since they left, and overall, the walk is bathed in silence.

Tsukishima isn't a talker, but...with Kuroo he is. He's used to light banter, coy glances, anything. Kuroo wouldn't mind their cozy silences right about now either.

But this quiet isn't peaceful, isn't comfortable at all.

Tsukishima stares at the road beneath his feet, like it's a struggle to keep his head up. He doesn't bother jumping over the puddles and potholes which mar the road. His boots are stained now, but Kuroo can't bring himself to correct the blond. He's sure Tsukishima knows what he's doing, he just doesn't have the will to mind.

Kuroo keeps his eyes on him anyways though, how can he not? Besides, it's a distraction from the thoughts plaguing his mind, the theories and resentment.

He thinks of Terushima, and wonders if Tsukishima will want to hear it...

Kuroo knows Tsukishima wants nothing more than for these killings to be over, and if Kuroo can offer him a lead...

Eventually, Tsukishima drags his feet a little too much, and it's a good thing Kuroo had been watching. Tsukishima trips with a light gasp, but Kuroo is there to catch him in an instant. As terrible as things are, nothing beats Tsukishima's warmth, and he smiles gently.

Tsukishima's hands grip his shoulders as he stumbles, and he finally raises his head, meeting Kuroo's eyes. And yeah, those eyes are everything to Kuroo. Even stained with worries, they're gorgeous, but Kuroo would give anything to make them brighten.

The look is all Tsukishima seems to need though, a reminder Kuroo is there for him, always will be. Tsukishima really does trust him, Kuroo realizes, and the blond melts against him, the confessions spilling forward.

Tsukishima is never unsure, doesn't like to admit he doesn't know what's going on in his own mind. But as he shakes his head, Kuroo knows that's what happening, and he's no longer afraid to let Kuroo find out.

"It just doesn't make sense," Tsukishima breathes, and in an instant his eyes glow with pure anger. It's not unlike how he looked at the protestors the first day Kuroo met him, but this is different. If Kuroo didn't know any better, he'd expect steam to start rolling off his boyfriend. If only he could get his hands on the killer, he'd make his life hell for sure, bender or not.

"What is this killer  _doing_?" Tsukishima asks, seemingly to himself, and Kuroo can't offer an answer.

Tsukishima throws his hands up, but doesn't shrug off Kuroo's grip. If anything, he moves closer, like Kuroo is pure comfort, the only one he has. Kuroo accepts him without a second thought even as his shoulders shake. "He has no motive, no pattern. Don't they see what they're doing to other waterbenders? They can't possibly be living easy in this city either..."

Ah, Kuroo has thought about that too. This is a skilled waterbender, no doubt, and well...

As they've seen, it's not easy to hide right now. Even if this killer does have a hideout, they can't be having a relaxing time slinking around and worrying about being chipped.

Yet, Kuroo also understands people are complicated, and sometimes there's no method to the madness. Kuroo rubs Tsukishima's back, and doesn't have anything else to offer but the cold truth. It's also something he's sure Tsukishima knows, but for someone who's always searching for reasons, it's hard to swallow. The most Kuroo can do is be there for him. "Sometimes...people are just cruel, and they don't care."

It's a hard pill to swallow, and for a moment, he's not sure Tsukishima will take it well. But when his boyfriend bows his head, Kuroo can tell he agrees, no matter how much he hates it. This killer truly is the worst of the worst, but right now they're winning, and they know it.

And who knows, as much as Kuroo hopes and prays against it, things might stay that way.

"I don't know anymore," Tsukishima whispers a moment later, pulling away. That vindictiveness is hard for Kuroo to miss, and Kuroo can't discourage it. When Tsukishima feels, he feels a lot, and the emotions are contagious. "Something else has to be going on." 

Terushima's face flashes in Kuroo's mind again, and he figures this is his opening. The gang member is as good a suspect as any at this point, even if he's not a waterbender. Maybe he's involved, at the very least. That, or it truly is some sort of hoax.

Doesn't matter.

Before Kuroo can open his mouth, there's a rumbling beneath his feet, and a flash in the corner of his eye.

He can't even see the source of the attack yet, has no idea what's going on, but it doesn't stop his body from reacting. The first thing he does isn't a surprise, his heart always did act first.

He grabs Tsukishima by the shirt, pulling him out of the path of the fire blast. He feels a twinge of regret, flinging Tsukishima to the floor, but soon his protective instincts take over completely.

Tsukishima falls onto the road from the force of Kuroo's motions, and then Kuroo is stepping over him, shielding him with his entire body as he turns to face the attackers. He'll apologize later, but right now--

The metal around his wrists and neck are already poised to attack, his stance firm, unafraid to rip up the entire road if it means beating these guys to a pulp.

Maybe that is the earthbender in him, the part left unrefined by Zaofu's walls.

In an instant, he sees three men, but already he knows they're not part of gangs. They're scraggly, with worn clothes, and maybe a little drunk to top it all off. The one in the middle walks forward, the soberest of the group, and his defensive stance is a little remedial. Doesn't matter, it still lets Kuroo knows he's a bender, and not afraid to attack.

The sight is not a likely threat, if there was only one man, but Kuroo takes caution. He knows when he's outnumbered, but he's not backing down regardless. He hears Tsukishima behind him, drowned out by the men's next slurs.

"Bad idea," the man says, and Kuroo finally catches the glimmer of a fire nation insignia on his collar. It's probably the cleanest thing about him. Not exactly an element he's ever had practice fighting. Kuroo braces himself. "It's three on one pal, just hand over your money and we won't have to hurt you."

Like hell will Kuroo let himself be the victim of a simple mugging. Besides, what idiots, trying something so stupid at time like this, whether they fear the police or the killer more. Kuroo scowls, and the way the man's face contorts, he can already tell Kuroo isn't going to give them shit.

"You don't know anything about me, or what I can do," Kuroo warns, and the metal which lines his boots joins the array of projectiles around him. His hand twitches, but he doesn't lose it yet. Not yet. "I'm a dock worker, I don't have anything for you."

_Just leave us alone..._

He hopes and hopes, for Tsukishima's sake, but as his blood boils hotter under his skin, he understands it's unlikely. These people never know when to quit.

"Every penny counts," one of the other muggers says, and the Kuroo realizes he's the earthbender of the group. He feels the ground tremble as the mugger takes a step forward. "You wouldn't want to put your friend there in harm's way, would you? You don't want anyone hurt..."

At the mention of Tsukishima, they've gone too far.

"Only you," Kuroo snarls. "But you'll find that out pretty soon unless you  _fuck off_."

The moment he's done, he sees the earthbender shift his weight back, and Kuroo's fist curls.

One of the firebenders growl back at him, but by then Kuroo is deaf to anything except the rush in his ears. "Suit yourself."

The last mugger simply breathes, and then fire engulfs the road. Kuroo doesn't hesitate to move.

His fist connects with the ground, sending up a rock wall that manages to stamp out some of it. The sound bounces off the buildings, violent as thunder.

The length of the stone wall curves around him, shielding Tsukishima as much as Kuroo can manage, and then Kuroo is jumping into the self-made arena. He spins, avoiding a boulder, and crushes the one that follows it. It hits his shoulder, falling to pieces. It hardly stings, and Kuroo smirks.

The shards of it, he mixes with the metal around him; they fly like bullets together, and are just as loud. A few hit one of the firebenders, but he's quick to take cover. The earthbender manages to meet them all head-on with slabs of rock, tearing up the road, but it's the least of Kuroo's problems.

The space is caked in heat. Kuroo's muscles burn, but his arms never stop moving, his eyes never stop tracking every little movement. The metal hits the rock with a disgusting scraping, and defiantly, Kuroo pierces the boulder with two shards of metal, pulling it apart.

They hit the sidewalk, and the earthbender seems more than a little pissed off with him. Good.

However, Kuroo's first objective should be to get these firebenders out of the way; their attacks are the most brutal, the most foreign, and Kuroo barely has any time to think before one is too close for comfort. The mugger kicks his leg up, and in its path, a string of flames shoots up. Kuroo ducks in time, the pavement sliding underneath him, but he feels the heat radiate onto his skin.

Much too close.

He kicks his leg out, and it digs into the ground like it's sand. A trail of rock runs right for the firebender, part of Kuroo's will, and the opening becomes clear. When the firebender trips on the uneven stone, Kuroo doesn't hesitate. He bends one of his metal shards forward like lightning, until it forms a headband around the man's eyes, blinding him.

Then, with a swift curve of his arm, Kuroo sends the man flying back against the nearest wall, knowing him out cold.

One down.

Even as he thinks it, he has to roll onto his hands and knees again just to get out of the other firebender's way.

He's fast, but while Kuroo hasn't trained in a long time, there's no rust on him to be found. In fact, he's a fast learner.

Kuroo dodges the next few strikes of fire, and he's vaguely aware of Tsukishima nearby.

Dammit.

Kuroo wants to tell him to get out of the way, but fighting takes priority.

He lets more metal shards fly, curving them to land direct hits. They clang against the boulders they hit, causing sparks. He manages to latch one onto the last firebender's wrist, and Kuroo doesn't hesitate. He sends the guy flying back, but he curses himself a second later. It's not enough to knock him out, and the rest of the shrapnel is blocked by the earthbender's own rock wall.

Fine.

If that's what they want, Kuroo will dismantle their defense the old fashion way.

A drop of sweat rolls down his forehead as his muscles tense up, his fingers rigid, and then he's pulling the wall apart. His muscles strain heavily, like he's weightlifting two grown men, but he doesn't dare take a break. The wall cracks obscenely as the other earthbender tries to keep it together, but by the time he realizes it's fruitless, the structure is crumbled.

The earthbender uses its ruins to fire at Kuroo, petty to a fault. Kuroo will give these guys that much, they're persistent. Any weaker men might've run by now.

Either way, they're going down.

Kuroo dodges as best he can, and when the earthbender sends a few jagged rocks his way, he remembers Tsukishima's technique like it's as simple as riding a bike. His body moves in three points, and before he knows it the rocks are flying back to sender.

Like a stream,  _smooth_.

Kuroo hears the crack of the earthbender's jaw when he's not able to block the first hit, and the second two sweep his legs out from under him. Out cold, in seconds.

Kuroo blesses the day Tsukishima was born, waterbenders too.

Yet, Kuroo is prone to stupid moves every now and again, and as he soaks in the feeling of momentary victory, searching for Tsukishima over his shoulder, he lets his guard drop too far.

He sees the fear in Tsukishima's eyes right before he turns away, back to where the firebender appears at his side, and Kuroo lets himself wall to the ground.

It's the only way to avoid getting burned as a blast of fire shoots out right by his face, and the tendrils of it lick at Kuroo's cheek. The pain of the burn isn't registered, because then Kuroo is falling over his earlier debris, his elbow connecting with the floor.

He knows this is bad; time slows down enough for him to at least think that. The firebender is above him, and by the time Kuroo will be able to move, to do anything, he'll be firewood.

"Kuroo!" He hears Tsukishima cry out, and it's the only thing which pushes him to try.

He rolls onto his back, just as he sees the firebender swing down.

What happens next...

Kuroo isn't sure anyone realizes what it means. Maybe that's for the best; he doesn't know. But just as the firebender lunges forward, flames blooming around his fist, it happens. Time fully stops, suspended, and Kuroo's eyes glow from the fire reflected in them. He knows what to expect; agony, a searing burn.

It never comes. All hears is a faint ringing, pitchy and neverending.

The firebender's arm contorts, so subtle, so  _slight_ , the man probably can't blame it on anything other than a muscle spasm or slip up.

But Kuroo knows. That movement isn't natural, it doesn't belong to the firebender. Instead, it's like strings are connected to his arm like a marionette, moving him with the slightest flick of the wrist. It's as if taking someone's entire will away takes little to no effort, and Kuroo remembers the analogy well from his days in school.

It's hard to forget this lesson in history class, it induces nightmares, makes the muscles tense. He could never sit still; to this day even, the tendons in his body crawl and squirm in discomfort. All because of one thing.

_Bloodbending_.

Even in his head, the syllables are slow, but the recognition is instantaneous.

But as soon as it starts, it stops. The firebender stumbles back, startled, and next thing he knows, he's hit in the face with water. The sound reverberates off the building walls like a slap, or maybe a thousand of them, all dealt out at once.

Kuroo doesn't care, can't bring himself to be concerned about much. Not himself, not his close call, nothing except the source of the water and that _sound_. Because...there can only be one source, right?

He swallows, the lump in his throat making him dizzy. He's frozen, on the ground, and maybe his heart knows before his mind does.

A body steps in front of him, protective, and with the last of his strength, Kuroo looks up.

Beautiful blond hair, earthbending clothes.

Tsukishima. Of course it's Tsukishima.

The shock is still settling into Kuroo as the firebender picks his soaked form off of the floor, snarling at Tsukishima. Kuroo can't see his face, but considering the firebender slinks back a few steps, it's obviously not kind.

The mugger tries to maintain his glare under the scrutiny of a look which promises death, but it's weak, mixed with stuttered gasps and wet footsteps. "You...you're...how  _dare_  a peasant like you--"

It's big talk, coming from a poor man with holes littering his clothes, but by now Kuroo is familiar with the waterbending stereotypes. Tsukishima must be too, for entirely different reasons.

Yet, he doesn't respond to those claims; Kuroo doubts he cares about them at all. When Tsukishima speaks, it's cold as ice turning skin black in the middle of a tundra. Unforgiving. So much so, a chill runs up his spine, shattering the shock.

"I'll only say it once. Do  _not_  touch my boyfriend."

The firebender lunges, and soon fireballs flying towards them.

For the first time, Kuroo gets to see what Tsukishima can really do.

Tsukishima's arm extends, straightening like a sword, the air of calm ferociousness and practice clear at once. He's been trained, there's no mistaking it, right from the start.

It takes Kuroo a few seconds to realize the blond sent out a ring of water, with the sharp movement, thin like air. So fast,  _cutting_ , Kuroo blinks and it's over. The water diffuses the blast of fire headed his way in seconds, and the next few after that. Every fiery blow, Tsukishima meets head on with his own wisps of water, and there's so much steam in the air Kuroo can barely see.

The blond is merciless too, as he should be. He doesn't let the firebender catch his breath before he's pulling water from thin air, forming a spinning ring around himself.

Kuroo can hear it rush, like a river.

Tsukishima has no issue, being on the offensive, and Kuroo can vaguely register how easily the blond moves. It's the most comfortable he's ever seen him.

The shrill ringing doesn’t stop.

Kuroo watches Tsukishima's feet, every careful step. It's almost like dancing, never ending pivots and rotations, and all the while Tsukishima's arms are at work as well. They whip forward, over and over, sending frozen blocks of ice from the ring of water.

They're freezing in midair Kuroo realizes; instantaneous.

It's too much at once, as fast as fire, and his opponent doesn't stand a chance.

A shard of ice connects with the mugger's abdomen, stealing his breath, and he stumbles. The firebender's hands fly up to protect his face, as if he realizes what's about to happen, but it's too late. The next ice blocks hit rapidly; one strikes his hand, and the other takes the new opening and goes for the face.

Calculated, predictive. Tsukishima.

The firebender drops to the floor as the ice falls, shattering against the road like glass. Out for the count.

Kuroo hears Tsukishima's heavy breathing as the blond stares at their unconscious assailants, making sure they're truly down, before those honey-brown eyes soften again in Kuroo's direction. But Kuroo catches it, the inkling of fury fading from them.

The ringing in his head stops.

"K--hey,  _Tetsurou_ ," Tsukishima calls, running to Kuroo's side like it's his favorite place. No matter how confused Kuroo is, no matter what he now knows, the feeling of Tsukishima's hands around his shoulders is like heaven. "Hey, come on Tetsu, stay with me."

Kuroo doesn't know what it is; whether he pushed himself too far, or if his brain really can't process this revelation, but the world begins to spin out of clarity, darkness nipping at the edges of his vision.

The last thing he hears is Tsukishima calling his name, his  _given_  name.

The last he thinks is how nice it sounds on his lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I'm close to catching up with my updates, this scene onward are the whole reasons I wrote this fic in the first place, so I'm very excited for what's to come! Thanks so much for reading, and comments are always appreciated! <3
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	8. your tongue is a rudder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo, I hope everyone enjoyed the reveal from last chapter, sorry to leave it on such a cliffy lol I'm so happy to be at this portion of the fic lemme tell ya (I'm excited for the fic in general but whatever). Thanks again to everyone who commented, it means the world to me and I hope you enjoy this update!!!
> 
> Thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

The first thing Kuroo notes is the pain in his head. It's like drums, pounding away at his temples, but he can't bring himself to groan. His entire body feels heavy, or...that's the closest thing to describing it.

Really, he doesn't feel much, other than the pain.

He must not be fully awake yet. He should try to get up though, if only to make some tea for this bitch of a headache.

He really hates migraines. He gets them whenever he sleeps too much, or too little. In this case, he doesn't remember going to sleep at all. Just darkness, and hands on his chest...

Tsukishima.

The thought of the blond jumpstarts Kuroo's brain, and the world begins to drown his senses. There's a burning sensation on his cheek, a dryness to his lips. He can feel the weight of his tongue, the blanket against his skin. It's soft, unlike anything he owns, and it has him waking up more. What is it?

Then, he recognizes it. Fur.

Oxen fur.

Slowly, as Kuroo begins to suspect he's not in his own home, the voices start.

Faint, gibberish. They fade in and out, stabilizing, until Kuroo can make out the edges of conversation.

"How could you be so irresponsible?"

"Oh that's rich. I didn't have a choice! They were going to hurt him!"

"Yeah well, now what is he gonna think about you, huh?"

Silence follows, but Kuroo still can't tell where the voices are coming from. Trying to sit up is probably a bad idea, but he does manage to groan.

"Oh shit," one of the voices says, and another set of steps runs off in another direction. "He's waking up."

Water...there's water running.

"Hold on, I'm getting him a cold cloth."

Ah, that sounds nice. Doesn't matter who these people are, they're good in his book.

Yet, when there's a gentle hand against his forehead, pressing the chilling fabric to his skin, Kuroo no longer needs to question where he is.

For whatever reason, the touch is the key. The memories of the night come rushing back. Muggers, fire, falling...

Tsukishima. Tsukishima can--

Kuroo sits up, grabbing the blond's wrist so tight it must sting. As his eyes open, the sights of Tsukishima's home hit him in the face. But the shock wears off just as fast, even as the deep blues and purples spin. This place...he knows this place well, loves spending his time here, more than his own dingy apartment.

He's not afraid to be here.

To his right, he sees Daishou stumble back, waiting, watching. Tsukishima's eyes are just as wide, but for a different reason. 

Kuroo wants to sigh, and his face softens. Oh love...

It's the first time Kuroo uses the term, but it feels right, and he's compelled to. There's no reason Tsukishima should look so scared of him.

Gentle as ever, Kuroo lowers Tsukishima's hand into his lap, his grip lessening. He trusts Tsukishima not to pull away, and he doesn't.

But his eyes still drown with doubt. After all, now Kuroo knows. For Tsukishima, there's no telling how Kuroo will react.

Kuroo hasn't shown himself to be ignorant, but in this day and age...it's hard to tell. Kuroo moves past the hurt to at least acknowledge that. Tsukishima lied to him, hid this from him, and while Kuroo wants to know why...

He understands already, can feel it in his heart. Tsukishima was probably hurting all this time too, keeping such a big part of himself locked away. Kuroo knows he didn't want to, can tell. The love burning in Tsukishima's eyes is not something he'll ever be able to stay angry at.

Kuroo exhales, rubbing his thumb over the back of Tsukishima's hand.

There's a lot of things he could ask and say. 'Why didn't you tell me you were a waterbender?' or 'How long were you going to keep this a secret?'

Tsukishima waits and squirms, as if he's ready for the worst of it.

So much to ask, and yet, the words which come out of Kuroo's mouth...

"Kei...are you alright?" Kuroo's voice is rough, but it must be the best sound Tsukishima's ever heard. The blond's expression dissolves into relief, pure unadulterated joy mixed in, and Kuroo can't help but return it.

Beside them, Daishou gags, but he's unimportant.

Tsukishima looks like it's taking a lot for him to not just dive into Kuroo's arms, so he kisses the blond's hand; it'll do for now. His lips are unfairly dry, but his boyfriend doesn't seem to mind. If anything, it's like a weight off them both.

_Don't worry, I'm not angry_ , it says.

Finally, Tsukishima speaks, the tension draining out with every passing second. "Mm, I'm okay. And you?"

And ah, Kuroo was hoping he'd phrase it like that. His lips split into a grin, and from the way Tsukishima holds back his own, the blond already knows the response. "Perfect, thanks to you."

The blush is the best medicine he can receive, and he reaches up to touch his own cheek, hiding. Yet, his fingers graze against something tender, irritated. He winces, and pulls his hand away.

Right, he'd been burned a little hadn't he?

"I put medicine on it already, it should clear up," Tsukishima says, reading his mind, and the blond gently smoothes his thumb over the delicate skin. Now that he mentions it, there is a sticky residue overtop. Tsukishima is always taking care of him it seems. "And before you ask, yes, your face is alright."

The impish grin does not escape Kuroo.

He tries not to swoon, and his fingers intertwine with Tsukishima's; it's like the south pole all over again. "You're too good to me you know that?"

Tsukishima's huff of laughter is featherlight, and Kuroo wants more than anything to capture the sound with his lips.

"I'm still right here," Daishou deadpans from the side, arms undoubtedly crossed, but Kuroo doesn't dare look away from his boyfriend.

The feeling is mutual.

"Unfortunately," they say in unison, and the edge of Tsukishima's voice sounds so much like a sigh Kuroo might weep. Only he can do that to the blond,  _his_  blond, the waterbending genius. He's giddy over it.

Oh. Waterbending.

Kuroo's face morphs back into confusion, and he really does hate to break the spell around them, but he has to know...

He shakes his head, one hand raised to get his bearings. "Wait, hold on...so many things to ask but, what happened?"

Tsukishima and Daishou exchange a look, and it seems they don't know where to start either.

Eventually, Daishou speaks, rubbing the back of his head. "When you passed out, Kei healed you enough for you to stumble back here. Guessing you don't remember?"

He doesn't let Kuroo answer, because it's obvious he has no clue what happened after he fainted. The annoyed tone dripping from Daishou's voice only makes Kuroo's eye twitch a  _little_  today.

"Anyways, I found you halfway and helped carry your ass up the stairs," Daishou scoffs, but there's a mocking gleam in his eyes, and he cracks the first smile of the night. It's not a kind one. "You've been passed out for hours. Guess you couldn't handle a few deadbeats huh?"

Jackass.

Kuroo own challenging smirk grows and dies in an instant. He wants to protest, he really does, but his questions are more pressing. He remembers Tsukishima knocking the last of their attackers out cold, but...

"The muggers..." Kuroo muses, hoping Tsukishima will connect the dots.

Bless him, of course he does. The blond waves his hand, like Kuroo shouldn't be bothered with caring about lowlifes. In addition, he leans over to poke Daishou in the head, so Kuroo adores him even more. "I left them there, but I'm sure the noise was heard. I got out of there before police arrived."

Tsukishima's relief is palpable, and Kuroo makes the connection easily. Tsukishima is a waterbender, he's still accepting it. Yet, with the fact in mind, police wouldn't exactly have been friendly...

Kuroo eyes widen, and Tsukishima shrinks back again. Kuroo tightens his hold on the blond's hand, if only to remind him he doesn't have to be afraid.

Not of him at least. But this city?

"Thank god," Kuroo sighs. "If they saw you there...you're a--"

"Yeah, I know," Tsukishima whispers, his small smile acknowledging the elephant in the room.

The words are out, the secret has been brought to light. There's no reason for Kuroo to avoid it, but he's careful. He always is, where Tsukishima is concerned.

Slowly, he scoots closer off the cot, but doesn't bother to stand. He wants Tsukishima to have all the power here. It's his story; Kuroo just wants to be a part of it.

"Kei, why didn't you...why didn't you tell me?" Kuroo asks, as softly as he can. Unfortunately, his rambles can't be stopped. "Why would you hide that? If I know anything about you, which I do, you love being a waterbender. Right?"

He saw the way Tsukishima moved, completely in his element. The nostalgia of his tribe, his homesickness, the decor of his home...

Never in a million years would Kuroo think he'd try to suffocate it to this extreme. At first, he thought Tsukishima's explanation was enough. Prejudice and discrimination are rampant, it's better to blend in, to not be a waterbender.

But that's like asking Kuroo to not be a metalbender; it's impossible.

The answer on Tsukishima's tongue is the same one he always gives, rehearsed, and Kuroo knows it now. "It's kind of like the clothes thing, with the discrimination so rampant I'd--"

"Kei, please," Kuroo says, so quiet, but it stops the blond like a waterbending slice. Kuroo pleads, which he rarely does, but for Tsukishima...anytime. Every time. "I don't need you to spill all your secrets. I know those will come eventually, but...I want to know the real reason."

The truth.

Even Daishou is quiet; the house soaks up the question, spits it back out like an echo.

Tsukishima bites his lip. Kuroo is right after all, there's more to this. More he needs to know. And he meant it, he's not asking Tsukishima for everything right away, but trusts the blond will tell him when he's ready.

Tsukishima turns to Daishou, the hesitation screaming in his eyes. Daishou is usually angry, but the bitterness in his eyes is so apparent this time, and Kuroo notices it immediately. Daishou shrugs, but after that, he doesn't look at Tsukishima anymore.

There's more there too, but then Tsukishima is gritting his teeth, eyes closed, while reaching up to his neck.

The Earth Kingdom trinket falls off his easily, the cheap cloth leaving a dull red line on his boyfriend's perfect skin. There, sitting shiny and unfair, is a strip of metal with three blinking lights. Red, orange, yellow.

An anti-bending chip. Suddenly, the beeping from earlier makes sense. The countdown...

"No," Kuroo breathes before he can stop himself. His hands are already at the chip, jostling it, but he's careful. He knows what happens if it's tampered with, how strictly documented they are.

If he disliked the police chief before, he hated him now.

Allowing this...

Tsukishima nods, but his expression is too pained, too resentful for Kuroo's liking.

The blond's hand reaches up to cup Kuroo's again, as if grounding himself, and Kuroo can see him swallow the lump in his throat.  _My Kei..._

"You're right." Tsukishima closes his eyes again. "I never cared about what people think, I would've worn my tribal clothes no matter what, still want to..."

The emotion is hard for Tsukishima to grapple with. The pauses between his words are like pulling teeth, or pins stuck in his tongue. Every admittance is a loss.

"But?" Kuroo encourages, because it's the least he can do.

Tsukishima shakes his head, as if his next words are the worst of all. Pathetic, weak. As if Tsukishima could ever be such things. "If I can't waterbend, I don't feel...complete. I don't feel like me, so I don't want to dress like me."

It stings Kuroo, a loss that's not even his. It's sharper than the slam of Daishou's door as he storms off, but Kuroo can't find it in himself to be concerned with the other waterbender or what his problem is.

Tsukishima's eyes shine with unshed tears, and Kuroo makes the move to reach up and cup his cheeks.

"Kei--"

But Tsukishima's sudden glare speaks for itself and halts Kuroo in his tracks, before it slowly dissolves into defeat. Some of the anger trapped deep inside rises to the surface, and Kuroo doesn't dare to stop it. "I've been able to waterbend all my life, and now that's gone. Thirty seconds at a time, that's all I get."

The scariest thing is the volume; Tsukishima's voice stays fairly quiet, no matter how much he seethes or how his expression lends to yelling. He stuffs in all away, because or else...

Kuroo can only imagine.

Kuroo softens, watching Tsukishima tremble. Right. He can only imagine, because he still has his metalbending, full use of it. He hopes he always does. He loves his abilities, his history, all his memories of learning it.

Tsukishima was robbed of all of that.

Kuroo shakes his head, fishing for a solution, anything to make that end. He feels so powerless, so  _fucking_  useless. "The police?" "Why--we'll just go to the station, get it removed--"

But Tsukishima's returning stare just let him know it's pointless; the blond has already thought of that, like he thinks of everything. Every possible path and strategy, mapped out in that brilliant head of his.

_I'm so sorry this happened to you._

"You know that won't happen," Tsukishima answers, and unfortunately he does. Either Tsukishima will be dealt some harsher punishment, or will be monitored more closely. No matter what, the chip is not coming off. "None of this ends until the killer is found."

The killer.

The cause of all the city's problems. Kuroo knows it all too well.

"I didn't mean to lie to you," Tsukishima says then, barely above a whisper, and guilt is another expression Kuroo decides he hates on the blond. He finally stands up, and the apology is enough for him.

He pulls Tsukishima against him, holds him until the trembling stops, and promises to get to the bottom of this. Whatever it takes.

"I know," Kuroo reassures him, stroking the hair at the nape of Tsukishima's neck. It's getting longer, but it suits him. "I forgive you."

_This isn't your fault._

He doesn't press anymore, not about the chip, or the bloodbending he witnessed. Kuroo's not even sure Tsukishima knows he noticed it during the fight, but it's not something they'll be able to avoid. Eventually, they'll have to talk about it, and Kuroo hopes Tsukishima doesn't hide from him.

After all, the blond saved Kuroo's life anyway he knew how, or so Kuroo assumes. He was under stress, that's all, and he stopped right away.

Kuroo can't possibly judge that. No matter how illegal, how violent the method.

Tsukishima has his reasons, he's sure. He hopes.

For now, all Kuroo needs to do is relax, and trust things will straighten themselves out.

The night dwindles on, and Tsukishima ends up lying with him, his rightful place.

Yet, as Kuroo devotes the rest of the night to Tsukishima, he can't help but itch with the need to hit the streets, to find the real culprit. When Tsukishima's voice begins to fade, when his head rests sleepily against Kuroo's chest, the metalbender's brain is still whirring with vengeance.

And at the forefront of his theories, Terushima stands, unmoving from Kuroo's mind.

His determination grows.

Kuroo pulls Tsukishima closer, listening to each shallow breath, and promises not to give up.

\--

An advantage to figuring out Tsukishima is a waterbender? The lessons.

Kuroo's hands stretch the metal slowly, until it becomes softer, more malleable. With all his concentration, he twists it, working at it until it gives to his will; it shifts in his hands, liquid.

Perfect.

He looks to Tsukishima's movements, the way he plants his feet. The blond curves one of his arms towards himself, while the other spins in the opposite direction, creating a small vortex of water around him. Tsukishima makes it looks so easy, but then again, this is what he's used to.

Kuroo watches, mesmerized, as Tsukishima's arms continuously rotate. The water around him is a decent amount, enough to pack a punch, but Tsukishima isn't interested in theatrics.

He's purely demonstrating as long as he can, the element he loves.

They're in the corner of a public park, mostly empty, and far enough away from the busier areas for Tsukishima's chip not to be heard. Even now, it beeps obnoxiously, but they'd learned to ignore it after the first few tries.

Tsukishima doesn't have much time left, but he models long enough for Kuroo to get the gist of the move.

It looks effortless, but Kuroo doubts it is.

When Tsukishima stops, returning his stream of water to the nearby pond, Kuroo knows he can't delay any longer. Not with Tsukishima looking at him like that, challenging.

With his metal, he matches the motions as best he can.

It's rough at first, as expected. His arms aren't used to moving like this, but he considers himself a fast learner. And thankfully, he has no time limit.

After a few shaky jolts and near misses, the rotations get easier. The metal moves like water, or in this case, like tar. It's pitch black, gliding along like sludge, but elegant in its own way. Or at least, that's what Tsukishima's awed expression tells him.

If he can impress the blond, anything is a win.

Though, he has to say...this feels pretty good on it's own. Kuroo never would've thought diversifying his bending would feel so eye opening, but he's grateful. He bites his lip as he continues, and wonders how long he'll have to practice before he can do that one move Tsukishima used on those muggers....

Before he can foolishly try it, he feels Tsukishima move behind him, adjusting his shoulders and elbows. Kuroo allows himself to be manhandled, it's Tsukishima after all. What's better?

"If you shift your weight a little more, it's easier to control," Tsukishima says as he kicks Kuroo's feet apart a little wider. As instructional as his tone is, Kuroo doesn't miss the way the blond's fingers glide across the skin of his arm.

Tease...

But, the blond is right. The metal bends to Kuroo's will, losing some of the resistance. The rippling current becomes a stream of black, and Kuroo grins so wide it might split his face. It's such a simple move, but he feels on top of the world.

He turns to Tsukishima for approval, and the blond's smile makes his triumph double.

"A boyfriend and a teacher," Kuroo says, and as expected, Tsukishima rolls his eyes. Kuroo will gladly take both. "What else do you know?"

Tsukishima shrugs. He stares up at the sky, like these things are flippant and unimportant, not incredible. "Most special techniques I learned from other benders. Of course, I learned traditional waterbending when I was a lot younger, but the rest is adapted."

Slowly, Kuroo slows his movements, bringing the metal back into his hands to stabilize into a misshaped mound. He messes with it, feeling the gritty surface on the pads of his fingers, and marvels.

"Is there really that much transferring you can do?" Kuroo asks. He's always been curious. Sure the redirection is something most elements can use, but what else can an earthbender possibly give to a waterbender, or vice versa? The styles are so different, and yet...

Tsukishima must sense his doubt, his ignorance; his head inclines, teasing again, and Kuroo can't help but return the grin.

"There's a lot I've found, whatever you can think really," Tsukishima replies, and he peers wistfully at the water. Kuroo's shoulders slump, and he wishes the blond could demonstrate to his heart’s content.

The loss he feels is more than noticeable to Kuroo now, eating away at him.

For now, he makes the best of it. Tsukishima takes a deep breath, and kicks his legs out, and Kuroo can recognize the movements before the blond's explanation begins. "Firebenders can use extensions of their entire body to control fire, like their feet."

Tsukishima moves one leg back, pivoting until he can strike it back upwards, not unlike the way the mugger had attacked Kuroo the previous night. "Less common for waterbenders,  _harder_. But I figured it out," the blond says, not a trace of arrogance to be found. It's more like relief, like finally solving a difficult equation after hours of trying to get it right.

Kuroo tries to imagine what Tsukishima is talking about; obviously, the movements must be limited. Waterbenders sometimes need complex arm motions to bend, but the advantage of sending out a few unruly blasts using one's feet is definitely a skill Kuroo would take if he were one.

"Then there's treating ice like how earthbenders treat stone," Tsukishima continues, gesturing to Kuroo. "How would you pick up and throw a boulder three times your size?" 

Kuroo doesn't know, because it's second nature. It's not one of those things he has to think about anymore, it just comes naturally. Not that he's heaving rocks all day, but he's sure the same can be said about how Tsukishima would push and pull waves off the ocean.

Instead of answering, Kuroo simply does it.

There's a sitting rock nearby, probably lodged deep into the earth. It hasn't moved in a long time, Kuroo muses, and that makes it the perfect tool.

The steps end up being simple; two to three movements, depending on how cautious he wants to be. His muscles strain as the rock unlatches itself from the ground, roots and vines pulling as the stench of mowed grass becomes more apparent. It lifts far above Kuroo's head as he spins away from it, his arms curving over his head until his curled fists turn sharply towards the ground.

It's like hulling a sack over his shoulder, and he watches the shadow of the rock breeze over him until is crashes onto the grass nearby.

Eek. Hopefully no one notices that.

To clear his tracks, Kuroo smoothes mud over the empty hole the rock left. Good as new...sorta.

He turns to Tsukishima, barely catching the way his eyes flick from Kuroo's arms to his face. Heh.

The blond coughs, but his nod is one of approval. Oh well, Kuroo can pull him apart later for the more risqué thoughts in his head. "See, I can use the same motion to move large chunks of ice, then in a way it's kind of like earthbending..."

Kuroo tries to picture it, but it's hard. But he guesses ice blocks can be used in a similar fashion, he's just never seen it. Traditional waterbending isn't so...solid, so rough.

Then Tsukishima grimaces. "That technique was a little more dangerous to learn, but worth it I guess, though I got tired of healing myself," Tsukishima says, running his fingers over his wrists. Yeah, Kuroo can guess the strain is hard for someone not used to lifting such heavy objects. He almost wants to run his fingers over the blond's muscles himself, if only to see how strong he is from all this practice.

Again, bedroom thoughts.

Then Tsukishima is smiling at him, stealing Kuroo's breath one second at a time. "Helps me understand how you bend too." 

For whatever reason, Kuroo blushes. Knowing Tsukishima thinks of him is a little too hard to handle, even when he knows it makes sense. He laughs, overcome by the bashfulness, and wonders if it'd been Tsukishima's plan all along. "No wonder you were all over me about metalbending."

The little choking noise which rushes out of Tsukishima's throat should not be legal. "I was  _not_  all over you."

"Sure babe." Kuroo's grin probably wants to make everyone in a two mile radius punch someone, and Tsukishima looks like he wants to make good on the promise. Maybe with a splash to the face instead. Kuroo can see from the way his grip tightens on his wrist, channeling self control. Adorable.

The reminder of Tsukishima's past injuries makes him pause again, the curiosity getting the best of him as usual. Carefully, he steps forward, taking the blond's hands in his. They're spotless, free of scars. "So, wait, can you heal too?" 

The blond shrugs. "Decently, it was really boring to learn though."

"You would think that," Kuroo says with a laugh, rubbing his fingers over the delicate skin. Tsukishima gets more and more amazing by the second, and he basks in it; maybe one day he'll get to see him in action again, and  _not_  pass out.

To think Tsukishima is comfortable now sharing his knowledge on top of it. Kuroo knows how reserved he can be, and in an era where trust in others is limited, he appreciates it.

Yet, he can't help but feel like an ass. This is unfair; he has his bending, can practice and mess around with these moves all he wants. Tsukishima gets thirty seconds, each one ruined with an obnoxious bell and flashes.

Kuroo tries not to frown, covering his regret with a patient smile. He can feel Tsukishima watching him, too intently, and knows he can get away with nothing. "Really though, thank you you for showing me, I know it's painful to be...reminded..."

"No," Tsukishima answers, always ready to quell Kuroo's worries. "I don't...hate it, and having a reason to waterbend isn't exactly a waste." 

A reason to waterbend, for more than just healing...

It's something Kuroo's noticed, the offensive style of Tsukishima's bending. He knows now it's not impossible for waterbenders to have that approach, but it's still jarring. Besides, Tsukishima doesn't just have the ability to fight, it seems like it's the style he prefers. Why else learn all these things from other elements?

Kuroo thinks of the muggers, knocked out cold, the contortion of the firebender's arms.

It's not appropriate, he thinks, to bring up the bloodbending now, but he knows it's fear talking. Not fear of Tsukishima himself, but of offending him. It can't be a pleasant subject, it's not simply a special technique, it's an illegal one.

Yet, as Kuroo traces his fingers over the veins of Tsukishima's wrist, counting the beats of his pulse, his brain can't shake it.

Kuroo breathes, feeling the syllables on the tip of his tongue, but never gets a chance.

"You saw, didn't you?" 

Kuroo's head snaps up, but he's not met by glowing honey-brown. Tsukishima's looking away from him, down at the ground,  _ashamed_.

Kuroo shakes his head, the need to comfort him so instinctual it's scary. "Kei, I--"

"I know it's terrible," Tsukishima interrupts, and the tone of voice spells it out for Kuroo clearly. He needs to say this, needs Kuroo to listen. So he does. Tsukishima looks up, as serious as he can manage, and Kuroo feels so small under that gaze. "Trust me Tetsu, I only use it when I have to, and that's  _rare_. And only in self-defense."

Tsukishima falters, his gaze falling to the side. Despite it, Kuroo knows he isn't lying, not about this. "It's not exactly something I enjoy..."

Tsukishima's mumble is music to Kuroo's ears, and he finds his heart squeezing with relief. The guilt he feels for doubting his boyfriend sits there though, and he voices it. He promised he'd try being as honest with Tsukishima as well from now on, no matter how much it makes him cringe.

"I figured...I don't fault you..." Kuroo says, and it's true. Tsukishima saved him, and he'll never forget that. If it's necessary, bloodbending is simply a skill, an emergency fund to pull from. He  _knows_. But..."It just came as a shock? They always teach us that bloodbending is this horrendous crime--"

"Because it is," Tsukishima states, as solid as a rock. His wrist twists out of Kuroo hold, and then their hands are linked again, like Tsukishima is trying to imprint this particular lesson on Kuroo in every way possible. "There's nothing okay with stealing someone's free will like that. That's why it's only for emergency, only a last resort."

Tsukishima touches his necklace in the spot where the chip lies beneath, and Kuroo understands. Tsukishima's guilt over his own decisions exist; he knows it's serious. He did what he had to. "Desperate times."

"Desperate measures," Kuroo finishes, softly, letting Tsukishima know he's heard every word. The blond nods, trying his best to smile, and Kuroo kisses his palm. It's hard, getting over everything he's been taught, but he sanctions Tsukishima's decisions, doesn't judge him for it. Besides, in a way he guesses it's....sorta interesting. Bloodbending. "It's rare too, isn't it?"

Tsukishima nods then, the comfort filling his face again. Right, technical stuff, bending talk. Those are Tsukishima's comfort zones. "Yes, most people need the full moon to do it. Unless they're a master."

Tsukishima clears his throat, and his small smile almost distracts Kuroo from the words. Yet, even as Tsukishima pulls him towards the picnic they'd packed, they ring in his mind.

_Unless they're a master._

Kuroo looks to the sky as Tsukishima changes the topic, as if it'll offer some new insight or clarity. He should know better though, fainting incident or not, his memory is a strong force.

There was no full moon last night.

He watches Tsukishima as he sits down, beautiful in the midday sun, and surprisingly isn't intimidated. Tsukishima is a lot more powerful than he gives himself credit for it seems, but now Kuroo knows better.

It makes it almost more unfair, for the bending of such a talented, passionate person to be stripped away. Kuroo can only imagine the things he can learn from him, metalbender or not.

However, he knows that'll only come true when the killer is found, locked behind bars with no way out.

Then, and only then, will Tsukishima be free.

As he loses himself in the afternoon, the fact repeats itself, and Kuroo's self-control dwindles down to almost nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe...  
> Anyways, I managed to finish another chapter of this over the long weekend, so I'm not as behind, but please be patient with me if I do struggle to keep up ; ; 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading <3
> 
> Follow me on [twitter for more!](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	9. everybody's scared of something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, with every update we're getting closer to my favorite chapter, which also happens to be the chapter I'm not done with yet so this is extreme sports, fic edition lol
> 
> I hope you enjoy this update for now, I'm excited to finally have one of my best boys make an appearance ;)
> 
> Thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

The rain pours overhead, the worst it's been in weeks.

The streams of water look more like shards of ice as they crash down onto concrete, and after a few moments of letting it hit his back, Kuroo realizes it's because it is. Slush, to be more precise. Large, bundles of slush mixed with rain race down from the heavens, landing like punches when he jumps from awning to awning. The frigidness hits first, then the pressure, and Kuroo gives a full body shudder as he tries to pull his coat tighter around himself. It's of little help.

The sleeves of the coat do nothing to keep the water from seeping in, and Kuroo begins to wonder if he'll ever be dry again. It's times like this he wishes he was more equipped for this kind of weather. This coat is the only one he owns, years old, not like the layered parkas of the Water Tribe or the new fashionable coats in the windows he passes.

He peers into a closed boutique, suddenly envious.

This is his only chance though.

It hasn't rained like this since the last murder, revealing the only discernible pattern of the killer. He only strikes during the rain, but it's not exactly a clue. It's rare this time of year for Republic City to have anything less; a morning sprinkle, an evening storm, maybe both.

However, only once in a while is the visibility this awful. It's perfect for killing, and Kuroo knows it's probably the stupidest idea in the world to be out at a time like this.

Curfew is a few hours off though, despite the empty streets and locked doors. People know better, but those people aren't Kuroo.

Kuroo has a mystery to solve, someone to protect, and as he sees the back of a golden coat gleam in the distance, the freezing temperature of the rain suddenly means nothing.

He's been trailing Terushima all day, but as the hours pass, he's beginning to lose his patience.

And wow, does Kuroo have a lot of it.

One hour of indecisive mall shopping, another in a seedy downtown bar, and then an agonizing thirty minutes of Terushima getting a suit alteration...

Needless to say, Kuroo hates this guy, but he's not afraid of him.

Which is a problem, because he should be. Isn't a killer more obvious than this? He doesn't know anymore. Terushima doesn't seem to be walking around like he's got a secret; he walks proudly, arrogantly, waving hi to everyone he passes. Not the demeanor of someone trying to blend in and disappear. Anyone would be able to place Terushima at the location of a murder in seconds, that's how loud his whole everything is. 

Kuroo watches as Terushima helps an old lady with her bags while simultaneously flirting with the cashier to get a discount on his food, and Kuroo no longer knows what to think of him.

Kind, but shady. Considerate, but unaware. Excitable? Unfortunately.

Terushima waves goodbye to the stall, even as the young cashier frowns at his refusal for a date. Surprising. Guess Terushima isn’t even serious about his flirting.

Kuroo follows after him from around a brick corner, making sure to blend in with the dwindling market crowd. It's a general flea market, but it makes him miss the one by the docks even more. Even this one hasn't escaped the danger though; stalls begin to pack up, inconvenienced by the rain and the danger within it.

Danger which might be cruising among them.

As confused as Kuroo is about Terushima's overall behavior, he's the only lead he has, and he won't let this go.

That being said...he doesn't exactly have a plan. If he confronts him...he could be killed.

All he wants is proof. No revealing himself, no fighting, just plain old evidence.

Should be easy enough.

As he thinks it, Terushima rounds a corner, the flashy tassels breezing through the wind. It's strong today, Kuroo realizes all too late. He curses himself even as he rounds the corner into a deserted alley, narrow and with no way out. Kuroo freezes as he makes a move to pivot, his eyes barely catching the sharp turn of Terushima's body.

He'd followed too close.

Kuroo's back hits the wall as a gust knocks him completely off his feet, and he only manages to send out one or two metal shards, which Terushima deflects easily. The shards get trapped in a vortex of wind, sent curling off against the other wall and away from the airbender.

Dammit.

If there's one thing he can say about Terushima, it's that he doesn't use excess energy when he knows he's already won. Kuroo grits his teeth, swallowing that pill of truth as Terushima approaches him, posture far too relaxed as Kuroo slumps to the floor.

He's still a threat, in all honesty, especially at close range like this. Maybe that's what makes Terushima's presence above him twice as intimidating. He's not scared, and the only sign of wariness comes from the hand stiffened at his side, ready to bend.

Kuroo might be able to get a few good strikes it, but it would be just as easy for Terushima to steal the air right out of his lungs.

Bowing his head, Kuroo accepts that, and the panic sets in.

The rain keeps coming down in sheets, but they're in public at least. Maybe Terushima won't kill him, no matter how easily the blood would rinse off. Besides, it can't be a quick job, replicating a bloodbending attack so thoroughly, removing the blood from a victim...

But Terushima makes no move to show his true colors, if such things exist. He tilts his head, eyeing Kuroo with an annoyed confusion. "I don't appreciate being followed, it's bad enough with all these fucking cops everywhere."

_Right, the police would be a problem for you huh?_

Not just as a gang member, but...

"What are you after huh? If you're shaking me down for money, you picked the wrong guy," Terushima sing-songs the last bit, his smirk an instant recipe for Kuroo's scowl. "You don't want the Triple Threats after you."

"Hiding behind your gang as always," Kuroo spits, and Terushima looks about ready to rip his throat out. Before he can, Kuroo's accusations fly. No point in hiding them now, if anything, he can try to intimidate Terushima into letting him go. If Terushima knows he's a suspect, he might think Kuroo told others. Having the airbender skip town isn't ideal, but Kuroo quite likes his life.

"Are they in on your scheme too?" Kuroo asks, channeling the anger he's felt for weeks into the one question. Tsukishima's face flashes in his mind, and he just wants to see him again, to hold him again.

It almost makes this little mission of his pointless, not worth it, but Kuroo also can't bear to see the blond in pain any longer. Anything to solve this case,  _anything_.

When Terushima's eyes widen, something in Kuroo breaks. Not because he expects denial, but because he knows he's wrong, deep down.

But he's not ready to accept that, not even when Terushima tilts his head, regarding Kuroo as if he's completely lost it.

"Scheme? What are you on about?" Terushima tries, as if maybe Kuroo will offer a different explanation or statement, one that makes more sense.

It makes Kuroo want to skulk back home, or fight Terushima anyways, disadvantage or not.

Kuroo yearns for something, anything to let him know he's not wrong. If he loses this, he's back at square one, like everyone else. Without this, there's no more hope.

So he tries, because it's all he knows how to do at this point.

"You've been committing the murders, framing waterbenders," Kuroo says, and holds his breath. This is it. If he's right, if he's exposed Terushima, the reaction can only be violent.

Yet, he finds himself wishing, hoping. He left a note under his pillow about Terushima, in case he really did go missing. No matter what happens to him, Tsukishima will be safe.

Free.

Then, Terushima is laughing. The bastard is laughing, and Kuroo gets sent right back to the starting line. 

The airbender clutches his stomach like it burns, and okay, this is a little too dramatic, no matter how serious Kuroo's claim is. Terushima stumbles, his expression ugly enough to scare children, and the flair from before is gone.

In short, he's been reduced to nothing but a cackling middle schooler, spraying spit everywhere. How he ever ended up at the top of the Triple Threat pyramid, Kuroo will never know.

It doesn't help Kuroo's ego either, watching Terushima wheeze on every attempted breath.

"W-where do you people get this shit?" The airbender manages to choke out, before his wheezes gradually devolve into coughs. It sounds painful. "Am I being pranked? Which guy sent you huh? Don't worry I'll be a good sport if you bet money on it. I just gotta know."

And true to his word, Terushima fiddles with his coat pocket, fumbling for his wallet. It stings more, somehow.

And true to the other rumors, Terushima is quite the loudmouth.

Kuroo barely has time to open his mouth before the airhead is on again, and Kuroo begins to think he's not expecting any answers.

"I mean I know all the boys at the hideout say I'm so full of myself I'll take credit for anything, but damn I'm not that bad," Terushima muses, and the sheen of sweat on his forehead is going a little too far. Kuroo doesn't even laugh this hard. But the airbender wipes a stray tear, and it seems to be the end of the outright screams. "The waterbending murders--pftttt."

Or not.

Terushima does his best to suppress the rest, his words separated by long sighs. Upon catching Kuroo's serious as death expression, Terushima's amusement fades into amazement, like he can't believe this is anything more than a joke.

Great.

But oh, he gets the picture eventually. Kuroo's eyes scream with intensity, the pent up aggression just kept back by his own survival instincts. Terushima steps back, sensing it, his mouth falling open.

"Oh man...you're serious aren't you?" he asks, and his mouth opens so wide, Kuroo can see the jewelry piercing his tongue. "Why? You're not even a cop."

He almost takes offense; he doubts the cops care nearly as much as he does.

Kuroo's at a loss though. He can't exactly say Terushima is ruining his boyfriend's life, though that is Kuroo's main motivation.

He thinks of Goshiki, of all the trouble the gangs have caused in the few years he's lived in Republic City, and channels his anger from there. Saying it aloud however, makes his case sound all the more weak.

Fuck, how could he be so stupid?

Terushima is notorious, not a silent killer.

"You were being a nuisance at my docks," Kuroo explains, useless, his ferocity depleting with every moment. "The best lead I had..."

And now that's gone.

At this rate, he'll wonder if things will ever be okay again.

At least Terushima is getting a kick out of his failure.

The airbender arches a brow, and his eyes are starting to really miff Kuroo. Too expressive, too loud.

"Oh  _your_  docks? Calm down Mr. Hero," Terushima scoffs, and then his index finger is poking his own chest, so harsh it must be hurting him. "I ain't doing anything I'm not asked to, that kid came to  _me_."

And oh, that makes Kuroo roll his eyes. Dangerous Triple Threat or not, he's pretty done. "And you just couldn't take no for an answer--"

Terushima throws up his hands, as if asking the spirits high up to back him up. They're miles away from the spirit portal, but even if they were standing right in the beam, Kuroo doubts the spirits would give a damn. "He was crying on me for fuck's sake, those puppy eyes..."

"You're a saint," Kuroo deadpans, but even Terushima's squawk brings little victory. His shoulders sag, defeated, and now he can only hope Terushima lets him go with minimal injury.

"Dick," Terushima spits, and he runs a hand through his hair; right, this whole thing has been an inconvenience to him. "Even if I was a saint, I couldn't have stayed..."

Kuroo's ears perk up as Terushima clicks his tongue, staring off in the distance. It's bold. Kuroo isn't restrained, could attack at any moment, but something about Terushima's words is too captivating.

Maybe that's how he's come so far, and Kuroo hates falling victim to it.

"Besides, the Triple Threats do most of our business downtown anyways, I don't give a shit about your docks in the long run, nor do I have the time, no matter how bad I feel for the kid," Terushima explains, and the drop of sympathy in his tone has Kuroo gaping this time. Terushima actually sounds  _apologetic_. Disgusting.

Then, like it never happened, the smirk is back. "I mean what? You followed me for a while yeah? I have a busy schedule most days, people to see, places to be, I can't be committing  _murder_."

The weirdest thing a gang member has ever said to him, hands down.

Yet Kuroo grasps for straws, trying to connect dots that no longer matter. "I just...you hate waterbenders so..."

So. So what?

He realizes it all too late, how Terushima is just one in a million. The person he thought to be a lead, is nothing more than part of the pack.

As if reading his mind, Terushima answers the inquiry. "Well first off, a lot of people hate waterbenders right now, the  _bastards_."

It sets Kuroo's nerves on fire.

At first, he thinks Terushima means the waterbenders themselves; after all, he still believes Terushima to be discriminatory. He wants the airbender to shut up, and is about to tell him, consequences be damned.

The anger on Terushima's face stops him in his tracks, scorching.

He was once told airbenders were the most understanding and forgiving of all the nations, but he now knows Terushima probably never fit in with that. The expression he's wearing now is nothing short of stone cold.

And more than that, the blond's anger is 100% directed at the same people Kuroo resents: the hateful, the prejudiced.

Terushima isn't the lead he wanted, but he's not part of the pack Kuroo tries so hard to fight.

"Second, I'm not one of them," Terushima confirms as much, taking a deep breath. His shoulders shake a little, and it takes Kuroo a minute to realize he's also tense. He breathes, letting some of the tension out.

The frustration around that must be hard to control, and Kuroo hates how much he relates to it.

"Those rumors aren't true," Terushima says, and Kuroo realizes how aware he must be of all the gossip around him. That, or the rumors truly are  _that_  well known.

Then, Terushima groans up to the sky, realizing the same. His face is that of a whining child, put out and made to sit in a corner. "Honestly, can't say  _anything_  in this town anymore. So I got a little drunk and mouthed off about my boyfriend while we were having a spat, doesn't mean I  _hate_  waterbenders, just means I'm dating a feisty one. I meant what I said about them being ruthless, alright? Ruthless with hearts."

The emphasis he puts on his own chest, as if it's skipping a beat, almost makes Kuroo laugh.

Almost.

The panic on Terushima's face is what stops him. He's never seen someone so feared look so damn concerned.

"Speaking of, he's probably freaking out, I was supposed to meet him," the blond says, wincing. Then, as if remembering Kuroo is there, he gives him the once over. Kuroo does  _not_  like that look. "Man, he is  _not_  going to be happy with the likes of you."

Kuroo blinks, and it's all he gets a chance to do. "Wha--"

" _Yuuji_!" A new voice echoes off the narrow walls around them, reminding him of a dart flying through the air. A threat. 

Terushima doesn't flinch, only looks down the alley, raising his hand in a small, child-like wave. "Hey babe."

_Babe?!_

Kuroo watches as a brunet races down the path, landing at their position in less than a few seconds. It's like he's gliding on the water almost, and as he comes into clear view, Kuroo figures out it's because he probably is.

The brunet is a little taller than Terushima, with the same mischievous gleam somewhere in his eyes. Right now though, he just looks grumpy, scowl set deep in his face. He's glancing over Terushima in a frenzy, only softening when he's convinced the blond is unharmed.

More apparent to Kuroo than that, are his clothes.

He's a waterbender.

The tight black pants are a little unconventional, but Kuroo can tell they're warm, tucked into knee high brown boots which are tied firmly to his strong legs. The blue parka he wears drapes low, well past his waist, fastened with a tidal-patterned blue belt.

On his neck, a peculiar betrothal necklace; yellow jade, carved with a flying fish.

Oh.

"Where have you been?" The brunet says to Terushima, but the blond must be used to this, because he doesn't attempt to answer right away. He's correct in that move. The brunet's eyes snap to Kuroo in an instant, suspicious and unforgiving as they lock onto a better target. "Who are  _you_?"

Thankfully, Terushima picks now to placate.

"Hey now, I took care of it already," Terushima says, placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. It's amazing actually, how easily the other yields to the touch. "Don't worry. But shit Kenji, you won't  _believe_  this--"

"Stop acting so flippant about this," Kenji says, gesturing to the wall, where Kuroo's failed strikes are stuck in a shameful row. Right, he'd forgotten about that lost battle. "There's spikes in the wall!"

"I told you I'm fine," Terushima says quickly, waving his hand.

"Yuuji--"

"Babe, you're not hearing the best part!" Terushima begs, almost stomping his foot, and Kuroo wonders why he ever thought this guy would be a good killer. Kenji indulges him finally, crossing his arms as Terushima tries his best not to laugh. "You won't believe this, but this guy...pft...he thought  _I_  was the murderer."

The way he says it makes Kuroo cringe, and he painfully waits for the waterbender's reaction.

Kenji blinks, and that's almost worse than another laughing fit. He should've dissolved into the cement twenty minutes ago. "The...what?"

Seriously? How many well-known murderers are there?

_Well, different worlds._

Terushima uses his hands as best he can to illustrate, and somehow his boyfriend understands before he even speaks. "You know, the big one, the  _waterbender_."

Again, nothing but a blink. "You can barely stand the sight of blood. I tried to prick your finger once and you had to close your eyes."

"Well...that's not the evidence I used but okay--"

But Terushima's sad protests are unheard as Kenji's gaze spins again to Kuroo, wide and searching. "Are you some kind of dumbass?"

Kuroo flinches.  _Now hold on--_

The metalbender glares with as much power as he can, though he still feels about the same as a worm on the concrete might. It's not a good look. "No, I--"

" _You've_  got the wrong guy, Terushima would never," the brunet says, not standing for any of what Kuroo has to offer. He begins to think silence is his friend in this case. This guy's approach is miles away from his boyfriend's, but the betrothal weirdly makes sense. And it's not just based off the swooning, affectionate look Terushima is sending the waterbender's way. "If anything, he's been more pissed off than  _me_."

As if to emphasize his point, Kenji gestures to his entire person, the tribal getup speaking for itself. Yeah, Kuroo knows.

Terushima pouts,  _pouts_.

"Can you blame me? I don't want you getting chipped or taken in," the airbender explains, taking his boyfriend's hand gently. Now Kuroo knows how Daishou feels, and he doesn't appreciate it in the slightest. Terushima continues as if Kuroo isn't there, adding to the feeling more. He hates this. "I'd completely lose it. I get nervous with you just being  _here_."

The words hit a little too close to home.

Kuroo deflates, all anger and frustration bleeding out. He knows how Terushima feels, can see it in his eyes. Gang member or not, he loves his boyfriend, doesn't want anything to happen to him.

_"If I can't waterbend, I don't feel...complete.”_

Tsukishima's words echo in Kuroo's head, and Kuroo wants to give him back everything that's been taken from him. More than that, he doesn't want him to suffer more. He worries just as much, about Tsukishima going to the market, the store, anywhere. Maybe that's another reason he's busied himself so much with this Terushima thing. Otherwise, he'd never let the blond out of his sight.

Then, Kenji raises his hand to cup Terushima's face, reminding him, and Kuroo, of an obvious fact. "I know, but I can handle myself."

Yeah, so can Tsukishima. Doesn't mean Kuroo can't look out for him anyways.

"Don't I know it," Terushima says with a soft laugh, meeting his boyfriend's hand with his own. "But so can this murderer, whoever the son of a bitch is."

The ire in his voice sparks Kuroo's own, breaking the lovers out of their spell. Kuroo nearly says sorry for it.

"Yeah, wish I knew," Kuroo mourns, looking to Terushima. "And if you're out of the picture, I've got no suspects."

For once, the airbender doesn't jest or offer teasing insults.

"I sympathize," he sighs, squeezing his boyfriend's hand. "I spent weeks cracking down on people within the Triple Threats to see if one of the newbies were up to something. Ya know, using the gang to hide? But nothing."

The revelation that Terushima did his own investigations is shocking, but not enough to relieve Kuroo of his own desperation. He can rule out the Threats yeah, but what about countless other citizens in the biggest city in the four nations?

It's not fair, he thinks, like a child. None of it is.

"It's hopeless," Kuroo whispers, staring at the ground. He's aware of Kenji's questioning gaze, Terushima weirdly sympathetic one...but he doesn't care. His brain doesn't offer anymore answers, just cold, damp disappointment. "Why is it so hopeless?"

Why is  _he_  so hopeless?

He knows Tsukishima will never accept such an apology from Kuroo. After all, the metalbender is no cop, doesn't have much tying him to the case other than his boyfriend. None of this is his fault, he's just one person. Even still...

He feels the crunch of concrete under Kenji's boots as he squats down, at Kuroo's eye level. He squints, regarding Kuroo with a certain spark, and Kuroo has to admit, up close, the betrothal necklace is even more unique. A waterbender and an airbender...guess it's not unlikely after all.

Then, Kenji's finger is pointing at Kuroo's chest, certain. "I recognize you now. You hang around Daishou sometimes, don't you? Him and that roommate of his...Tsukishima."

Kuroo's back straightens like a rod. "How do you--"

"Water Tribe community is small down by the docks, and getting smaller because of all this drama," Kenji says with a roll of his eyes, but his smile is kind enough to take pity on Kuroo's ignorance. Even after all this time spent with Tsukishima there's a lot he doesn't know. "Everyone knows everyone, or talks about them. Either or."

He'll have to ask Tsukishima if that's truly the case, and if so, why he's never seen Kenji around.

Though, he supposes the fiance of a Triple Threat has better places to be than by the fish boats.

"Daishou used to sell near Triple Threat territory, when the two first moved here," Kenji says, answering Kuroo's question. No wonder he guesses Kuroo's thoughts so easily, he practically trained on him like a hawk on a small mouse.

Deadly.

Something in Terushima's eyes also flashes with recognition, but he keeps to himself, letting his betrothed handle it. Kuroo wants to ask him if it's hard, as an airbender, letting such tension weigh down the space around them.

"What's your point?" Kuroo manages to ask eventually, after the silence has sat for too long. He swallows. The lump in his throat is a surprise to him, and his body's muscles stiffen, like part of him already knows he's about to be told something he doesn't want to hear.

Or something he never wanted to acknowledge.

Kenji's face echoes the same realization, and he gives Kuroo an expectant look. "The only point, one you surely must've thought of, otherwise....I'd leave the detective work to the police, no matter how stupid they are."

"Excuse me?" Kuroo spits, but his reputation is against him. He's made no headway, but maybe it's because he hasn't looked into the whole picture. He's fought hard to only see what he wants to see.

Kenji rises to his feet, as if looking down on Kuroo will drill his message in more effectively. Kuroo wishes that weren't the case, and the words are processed by his mind whether he wants it to or not. "Daishou and Tsukishima. What do you really know about them?"

And there it is.

It's something he's been asking himself since the beginning. But with his bond growing stronger, and the removal of Daishou's betrothal necklace from the picture...

He's been slowly tucking and tucking it away with every small reassurance. But the fact of the matter is...

"They're--" he tries, but Kenji beats him to it, and that hurts more. Because he likes he believe he does know Tsukishima. He knows his face, the emotions in his eyes, the regret. He might know who he is, but his past...

All he knows is that it's shrouded, and Tsukishima hasn't yet allowed him to completely tear apart the veil.

"Because I'll tell you what I know," Kenji whispers, like otherwise the entire world might hear. "I know they barely moved here a few weeks before the murders began, and I know they keep to themselves. No one really knows why they came here or what their lives used to be like, and they aren't exactly open about it."

But ah, there's an explanation for that right? Kuroo tries to tell himself it's the case, and it partially is. It's painful for them, their engagement. They had to run away, had to keep it a secret. They can't even go back home if they wanted to, so why would they ever bring it up to strangers? Kuroo is lucky he knows.

And besides...Tsukishima's chip. There's no way.

There's no way they lied, and everyone has their complicated shit. Kuroo never talks about Zaofu, so what?

Even as his mind races, he can't help but come up unconvinced.

Kuroo scowls, at the two above him, at himself... "You don't know anything about them! They had no choice but to--" 

"And I'm sure that's just what they told you, and it's probably a nice story." Kenji, it seems, is not afraid to be blunt when necessary. There's no reason for him to take pity on Kuroo, to be careful when shattering his illusions. "But do you really know?"

Does he?

What does he know that Tsukishima himself didn't tell him?

He falters for a second, just one, but it's enough. "Well--"

"You've seen their files, gotten the details, public record?" Kenji is merciless. "Do you know for a  _fact_ they're not dangerous?"

_Yes, yes I do._

He needs to trust Tsukishima, no matter what. Even with the things the blond hasn't told him, he has to believe he'd never do anything so awful.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Kuroo whispers, but it's in vain. His weakness has been exposed, his foundation chipped at.

Kenji seems content with that at least, but there is the first glimpse of fear in his eyes. The fear of the unknown he's just exposed.

Because honestly, theories or not, even he can't be sure of anything, and it must kill him.

Terushima chooses then to speak up, gentle, and his hand sits on his beloved's shoulder. "Kenji..."

Enough.

The skepticism on the brunet's face falls when the voice hits his eardrums, or maybe he finally decides to go easy on Kuroo's slumped over form. After all, they're pretty similar, both grasping at their own assumptions and clawing for a killer's identity.

Kuroo just really hopes they both end up wrong.

Kenji huffs, hands going into his pockets, and on the horizon, the sky roars. More rain is promised, more uncertainty, and with it, the growing possibility of a stronger threat. "Suit yourself, but don't forget what I said. They're a mystery, whether you wanna admit it or not."

Then, Terushima is pulling his hood over his head, his sigh visible in the chilling air as he waits for Kenji to take the lead; back into the shadows, where Triple Threats thrive.

Before he leaves, Kenji raises his hand, snapping until Kuroo's eyes are back on him. "Oh, and this is your first and final warning. Stay away from my boyfriend, or bloodbenders will be the least of your problems."

The threat is honestly nothing compared to the war in Kuroo's heart, but he does promise to follow it as Kenji's back faces him, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

Above him, Terushima laughs; there's an ounce of apology in his expression, but he's mostly good-natured, something Kuroo will never understand. The love in the airbender's eyes is overflowing, and Kuroo can relate to that, no matter how different their lives are.

Terushima's final grin sticks in his mind. "See? Downright ruthless."

And with that, the airbender trails after his boyfriend, a skip in his step, and Kuroo is left alone in the rain.

As expected, no relief comes with it.

\--

_It's not true._

Kuroo tells himself that long after he gets up from the damp alley floor.

_There's no way._

It stays with him; he stumbles down crowded roads, and doesn't bother to avoid the steep puddles of mud in the potholes as he crosses, people running to get out of the rain. It hits the pavement hard, makes car headlights nearly useless.

Horns blare into the thunderous sky and shop owners peer out the glazed windows. Water splatters the tarps; the last place people want to be is outside.

Kuroo is numb to all of it.

He nearly trips down a familiar road, downtown, past the repair of the Avatar's statue and the tourist museums.

It sits with him.

Tsukishima. Tsukishima loves him.

That's the only thing that's convincing. He trusts that one thought with all his heart, even as guilt pounds into his back with every drop of rain. His coat might as well be ruined, but he keeps it on as he trudges up the library steps.

His mind, his betrayed mind, hungry for knowledge. It shouldn't be. He should talk to Tsukishima.

Should, should, should.

_It's not true_ , he repeats. Kenji is wrong.

Yet, Kuroo still finds a table to sit at, in a warm, empty corner of the grand library, unsure of what he's even searching for.

\--

As most nights go, he finds himself in Tsukishima's arms in the last hours of the day. It might've been stupid, given the things in his head, but he's been making a lot of stupid decisions today. What's one more?

Kuroo needs this.

Besides...his feet rebelled against him, carrying him to Tsukishima's place before he'd been aware of it. When had he started to associate Tsukishima with home?

So warm, so inviting.

Kuroo, despite everything, relaxes in Tsukishima hold in an instant as skilled fingers massage his scalp. He wonders if the blond can sense something is wrong. If he can, Kuroo is grateful he doesn't say anything.

Kuroo loves this bed. It's soft, piled high with furs and comforters. Tsukishima likes a lot of pillows, using Kuroo as an excuse to buy even more.

They're blue, like the sea. Kuroo blinks as the room blurs. His eyelids sink lower, heavy, and he tries to jolt himself awake. Tsukishima's quiet breaths are too calming though, his hands too adoring, and Kuroo falls deeper into the darkness.

Yet, he finds his voice, bleary and muffled, for his mind and his heart can't let it go. Not anymore, not now.

"Kei," he says, and Tsukishima responds with a small hum, heard over the rain as if it yields to him and him alone. Tsukishima is the most relaxed he's been in a while, Kuroo notes. Soft, listening to the rain hit the windows and the roof. Kuroo feels bad, for potentially ruining that. "Why did Daishou even make you a betrothal necklace if he wasn't going to marry you?"

He feels Tsukishima pause, holding his breath, but Kuroo keeps his voice calm. Casual. "I was just thinking he'd be kinda dumb if he did. I saw one earlier today up close...they're real hard to make."

Not a complete lie. He thinks of the yellow jade of Kenji's necklace, the care with which it was whittled down into the perfect shape.

Tsukishima shrugs. "I told you, it was just customary. People expected him too, and we couldn't have people suspect."

Kuroo should stop. But again, 'should' hasn't been of any consequence to him lately. He groans, sleepy, and nestles into Tsukishima's side. He doesn't think he can bear for the blond to look at him, or else it all might spill out.

The history of the Water Tribes, specifically the north. He'd read up on it a little, for whatever reason.

For dumb, unnecessary reasons, he tries to convince himself. Yet, Kenji's words still sit heavy in his head.

"That's weird, though, isn't it?" he asks, yawning. It's strange, how with each question, his body shuts down a little more. He's not ready to find this stuff out, but he doesn't have a choice. His mouth, as always, runs away from him. "I mean I get traditional families have their issues but overall, the tribes seem a lot more progressive now. No more arranged marriages and stuff."

Unless you're royalty, or nobility.

Therefore, Tsukishima shouldn’t feel so shamed, so afraid to go back. Most people in the north can’t feel the same way, right?

Kuroo read that, in one of those thousands of books sitting dusty on library shelves; the cultural section. It tells him what he needs to know, to unravel small threads which may or may not be inconsequential.

He knows he's backed Tsukishima into a small corner without him realizing. It's not a huge deal, or a particularly interesting theory. He's suspected Daishou to be nobility before, and it's been confirmed by Tsukishima. But now, knowing what he knows...

Tsukishima sighs up at the ceiling, giving Kuroo the answer he unfortunately expects. The lie. "More traditional families are respected enough that people don’t want to disagree with them. Daishou is from one of them, so he didn't have a choice, and people would’ve been wary of us even if we’d tried to stay. No one likes going against money.”

He’s right, but in this case it’s unfounded.

One small, tiny, lie. But still a lie, and Kuroo's heart tugs.

Tsukishima has a chance to clear the air here, Kuroo is giving him an out. Just say it's not true, that it was some other reason...

_Why did you really leave?_

Kuroo waits and waits, and his hope isn't strong enough.

Tsukishima isn't supposed to lie to him, they'd  _promised_. So if he can lie about this...

_Please say something else. Take it back._

But Tsukishima stares up at the ceiling, quiet, fingers smoothing over Kuroo's head. It's not as comforting as minutes before, and again, Kuroo's eyes feel heavier.

_Why_? Why lie about this one thing?

It's not important, Kuroo wants to scream. There could be other explanations, other embarrassing truths Tsukishima simply isn't ready to share.

He wants to beg him to.

Kuroo's doubts grow as the silence does, sleep overcoming the panic in his head.

Those books had been thorough, with pictures. The past, through modern day, a complete history. Lists of noble families, last names.

Daishou isn't on any of them, not even mentioned. Daishou isn't a noble, he repeats, just to get it. So why claim to be one? Why Daishou, specifically?

Kuroo tries to call the image of the book page back to the front of his mind, but his photographic memory is too trustworthy. Daishou is still not on that list of names, no matter how he tries to imagine it in the alphabetic order.

Tsukishima, however...

_Tsukishima_.

The blond sighs next to him, reaching over to dim the lamp light. The rain pours on, smoother now, like the script of the Tsukishima family seal, as it sat clear and crisp on the page.

Grand.

Undeniable.

Tsukishima turns over, bringing Kuroo closer, and his words are not enough to calm the storm. "Rest now. You're tired, right?"

Kuroo has no energy to answer. He pictures Tsukishima's name on the page one more time, before his body decides it's too much for him.

When his eyes close, they don't open again until the morning sun streams through the window, bright and burning.

Meanwhile, his dreams are all ice and tundra, stained with blood, and he’s not ready to acknowledge why.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c
> 
> the seed of doubt is there *evil laughter* but don't worry Kuroo is still whipped <3
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and following this fic! ilu guys! 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	10. drag the waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting so long for this section of the fic, but I feel like I say that about every chapter so LOL I hope you enjoy ;)))
> 
> Big thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

Kuroo doesn't want to be here. He wishes he wasn't, but this is also his own fault.

_Rest now, you're tired._

Yeah, if only he could take that advice.

But his mind would not rest until he knew the truth, the real truth, as much as it hurt to dig for it with his own hands. His hands already felt grimy, like he’s been gravedigging, and he hit himself for the analogy.

He should be hearing an explanation from Tsukishima's lips; the thought weighs his steps like headstones piled high. Yet, they still vie for knowledge as they carry him up the old, battered steps.

In other words, his own feet carry him as much as his heart, fueled by the endless questions plaguing his mind and dreams.

He has to know, and he will, no matter the cost.

Kuroo stares up sullenly, the mist from the morning rain still fresh in the air; the sky is bathed in darkness, and his world isn't much better.

The hall of public records is a giant eye sore on the city's map. It sits, situated deep in the now customary vines which run through the city. The large, shining dome on top is as faded as car headlights, foggy, and the rain isn't doing it any favors. It stands as solid as ever though. Somehow, in all the initial chaos from all those years ago, when the vines spread so far they crushed buildings, the hall remained untouched.

As if even the spirits knew the importance of the documents in there. All those public files, evidence of heinous crimes dating as far back as the founding of the city. A hub of history, old and new.

Along with information on all new citizens.

As Kuroo gets to the large revolving door, he second guesses himself. He's not worried about not getting what he needs; advantages of living in a big city? He gets to know people. Some more important than others.

But something about this feels like crossing the threshold into danger. It shouldn't, and that's what worries him most. He's always equated Tsukishima with mystery, at least a little, but he never thought for a second that mystery would grow into a seed of evil.

Doubt.

_No_ , he reminds himself, stomping his foot. Earth; so grounding, even in these tumultuous moments.

He may not know everything about Tsukishima, but he knows enough. Tsukishima isn't a murderer, and Kuroo loves him.

That's all there is to it.

Despite the storm in his stomach, Kuroo pushes the doors, wincing as they squeak into silence. Out of everything, at least the floors are clean; Kuroo's steps echo down the two large empty halls which branch out from the lobby, and the floor is so white Kuroo can see his tired, guilty face.

A good start. He doesn't have time to dwell more though.

There's the single, loud thump of a book being shut, and Kuroo looks up to the front desk, the sole beacon of color. As expected, only one person sits behind it, and he's never surprised, least of all by Kuroo.

It's been awhile, but it's the one joy of Kuroo's day. He grins, as boyish and teasing as ever as he eyes the stacks of old documents on the desk, the notepads scribbled on with indecipherable instructions. "Issei, I'll never understand how you don't get bored out of your mind working here."

Matsukawa's eyes gleam with a hint of amusement, his fingers tapping against the large tome. Kuroo leans over curiously;  _A History of Republic City_. Nice.

But lame.

"Oh I do," Matsukawa breathes out, leaning back in his plush chair. He eyes Kuroo suspiciously, sizing him up like they're about to fight. Honestly, Kuroo doesn't know who would win. Matsukawa is about the most peaceful metalbender he's ever met. It's to the point where he's only seen the man use his bending twice, and never aggressively. Still, there's something about him no one dares to mess with. "Most times I just leave for lunch for three hours, no one notices."

Kuroo can't help but snort. It shouldn't surprise him, back when Matsukawa still worked as an intern for one of the city offices, he'd be chilling in bars by the docks instead. No one ever noticed he was gone, and his work was never late. Kuroo still doesn't know how he managed it, but he was grateful for the drinking buddy.

Plus, it was quite entertaining trying to pair Matsukawa up with Hanamaki back in the day.

"Ah, so I managed to catch you huh?" Kuroo asks, but his relaxed posture must be a little too stiff, and his gaze flicks down the hall, feeling  _something_  pull him.

He wishes he were here for such a simple visit.

Matsukawa pauses, leaning forward in his chair. It squeaks eerily in the space. "Mm, you're not going to believe me, but I had a feeling something interesting would happen today. And then you showed up..."

Awkwardly, Kuroo laughs, the mood plunging to join the icy depths of his suspicions. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding those prying eyes. "I don't know, I believe in a lot these days."

Hopefully not for the worse.

He can feel Matsukawa's eyes boring deeper into his soul, finding the roots of his undefined problem. Ah, maybe this is it. This is why no one messes with Matsukawa; the intensity is too much, his eyes a dark void of experiences he never talks about.

He knows Kuroo is far from okay, it's written all over him.

Kuroo holds his breath, and Matsukawa doesn't even humor him with a sigh or a joke. As much of a jokester as he can be, this is serious.

"Kuroo," Matsukawa says, and Kuroo's head has no choice but to rise. He stares back into the void, and he wonders if his own are becoming just as clouded. "What do you want?"

Outside, the rain is picking up again, a sign that Kuroo is stuck here for a while. He prays it's not a waste of his time.

With a scratchy throat and heavy heart, he leans forward, the marble freezing under his palms. It's not a big deal on the surface, but he whispers the words, unwilling to let anyone else know the extent of his fear. "I'm looking for something on a waterbender, a new one."

He has to pause halfway; not exactly convincing. God, he doesn't know if he can do this. "H-He moved here just a few months ago."

Matsukawa answers him with silence. Waterbenders. Both a hot and dreaded topic right now; it reeks of suspicion, and well, Matsukawa knows Kuroo.

A hero complex is a hard thing to shake, even when he moves to a new city and tries to erase any of the traits which make him stand out. It's never that easy.

Kuroo is Kuroo. Painfully curious, with a heart to match. There's no stopping him, even if it leads him down roads only police should go down. But they've failed in his eyes, and he's not the only one who needs the truth.

The city does, waterbenders themselves do.

Matsukawa does sigh this time, fixing Kuroo with a hard stare. No more jokes, Kuroo guesses.

"Kuroo." Matsukawa stands, and now his eyes aren't empty. They're fearful, like they're already aware of what Kuroo's doing. "I know I'm the last person who should be arguing against mischief, but if you're trying to find what I think you're trying to find...I can't help. This isn't something fun, it's serious. I hope you're not trying to be a sleuth."

And yeah, there it is.

But he is wrong, somewhat. Kuroo does want the murders to end, he wants his friends to be safe. This isn't for him, it's for people like Tsukishima. But for any progress to be made...he has to eliminate suspects. He can't be haunted by the words and rumors of others, the secrets tucked away in Tsukishima's house.

There's no point in lying to Matsukawa, he already knows Kuroo is up to something. But...Kuroo won't implicate him, he won't leave him with the burden of  _knowing_. Matsukawa knows enough, locked in these walls all day.

"No, he's a friend," Kuroo lies, not even trying to be convincing. "I just wanted to check something, about whether or not he's married. Can't go courting married men, ya know?"

It's a direct reference to Hanamaki; for a while, Matsukawa wouldn't even approach him due to fears of his husband. Little did they know, Hanamaki's ring was simply a family heirloom.

He expects it to get a laugh out of Matsukawa at the least, but there's still the same old frown.

_Yeah, I know._

Not a complete lie, but still not the real reason Kuroo is there. Whether or not he finds out the truth about Daishou...it would just be a bonus.

But this way...with this excuse, Matsukawa stays out of trouble. If cops come to ask whose been through the files, there's hardly a trail to follow.

He just needs Matsukawa to take the bait, to let this go and let Kuroo do what he needs to.

The other shakes his head slowly, but the feeling of reluctance pairs well with acceptance. Matsukawa's tone is stiff as he replies, almost like it's through his teeth. "Well, if it's the mission of a bachelor, I can't exactly fault you."

Kuroo's chest blooms with relief, but he doesn't smile. It's not exactly that kind of moment. "Thank you," he breathes, but the other says nothing. Thunder rumbles through the walls, diminishing the harsh clatter of Matsukawa's chair rolling back.

Kuroo is all too ready to follow him, to get this over with, but then Matsukawa is leaning in, the whisper chilling him to the core. "Don't tell anyone I let you in here."

Kuroo's blood runs cold, but at least he still has it, coursing through his body. He can't say the same for victims, and he knows that's exactly what Matsukawa is worried about. The police can't find out, they'll pin anyone with this, just to make it go away.

No one is close, though Kuroo soon might be.

At the end of the day, no one knows anything about the killer. And as much as Kuroo came here seeking knowledge, he hopes he leaves just as in the dark as before.

That's his fantasy; the off chance Tsukishima never lied about anything.

As farfetched and improbable as, say, bloodbending without a full moon.

"It never happened," Kuroo agrees, swallowing his nerves. Maybe he can make himself believe that as well.

With a nod, Matsukawa turns down one of the tunnels, into the depths of the hall where the city's past, bright and horrid, rests in droves. "Come with me."

\--

Kuroo expects more organization.

Coughing from the dust, Matsukawa kicks a few boxes of files out of their way as they reach a back row. The dates Kuroo can see are current, it's weird they'd be so tucked away.

As if reading his mind, Matsukawa shines a lantern on his face as he wades through the boxes. The numbers on them are things Kuroo can't decipher, but Matsukawa's search is methodical. He knows exactly where to look. "We're still backed up to hell because of the murders," he vents. "Trying to fend off the police from completing ruining the system, and trust me, they've tried."

Right, their "investigative procedures" Kuroo has to laugh. Nothing more than prejudicial suspect collection. He helps Matsukawa move the particularly heavy crates, the papers dry and numerous enough to start the biggest fire in the world.

The lantern in Matsukawa's hand suddenly makes him nervous.

"As a result, we kinda...messed it up ourselves," Matsukawa winced, digging through the next stack. "We haven't had the staff to file everything away this fast, but..."

As he speaks, his eyes light up. "Ah-ha!"

Handing the lantern to Kuroo, Matsukawa fishes out a small box of documents, Each stack of papers are divided into small blue folders; appropriate. It's...less than Kuroo thought.

Matsukawa sees his expression as he trades Kuroo for the lantern, and the box is unfairly light in his hands.  _This is it?_

Matsukawa shrugs." Lucky for you, waterbenders aren't exactly coming here in mass." He pats the box to emphasize his point. It makes some sense, waterbenders are a community. Surely, the poles must be heeding the warnings. In fact, Kuroo can't think of many new residents outside of Daishou and Tsukishima.

Well, he supposes he's about to find out.

Matsukawa gives the box a final once over, and his face screams with the questions he won't allow himself to ask. Kuroo just nods at him, thankful.

"Knock yourself out," Matsukawa says, trying his best to be flippant. But of course, he's still Kuroo's friend. Matsukawa grabs his wrist, squeezing tight as he leaves his final warning. No one is there with them, but it's a whisper, a pact. "And Kuroo, be careful."

Kuroo nods again, but unfortunately, he can't promise anything. He doesn't.

Matsukawa's heavy footsteps leave him in the dark, echoing against the concrete floor until Kuroo hears the record room's door slam shut, sealing him in.

He gets to work immediately.

His eyes shoot from where they watched Matsukawa leave to the box in his hands. He drops it to the floor, crouching along with it; there's no time to relocate to a desk.

The papers are so unused and fresh, they scratch at his hands as he pries open the first file. He winces at the paper cut, doing well to not stain the pages with blood.

The first file is that of an old man from the South, who retired to Republic City where his children have lived for years.

It's not what Kuroo's looking for.

He stuffs that file to the side, rifling through the next one.

_Shirabu Kenjirou._ A Northern diplomat; he no longer resided in the city.

Next.

It goes like this, for the ten or twelve files that sit in the box. No one is a fit, either too old or too scared off by the police presence. Many of them have left; it makes Kuroo's heart ache even as he keeps his mind on the mission.

This city is his home, as terrible as it can be, as dirty or crowded, it's always been a haven above all else. A place where everyone can come together, can live equally. When had that changed?

As he thinks it, he peels open on of the last files, and finds the name which makes his weighted heart weep with joy despite every doubt.

_Tsukishima Kei._

As soon as he sees it, he closes the file. Fuck. Kuroo's such a child.

With a shaky breath, he opens the file again, gentler this time. His hands sting, but the single picture of Tsukishima could heal worse wounds. He...looks so young in this picture.

So happy.

Not because he's smiling, because he would never smile in pictures. No, it's his eyes, his  _face_. The youth shines, the sense of belonging. Tsukishima looks brand new, unbothered.

In an instant, Kuroo knows something went wrong at some point.

As happy as Tsukishima seems around Kuroo, the root of joy is gone. Kuroo wants to know who uprooted it, even if it was Tsukishima himself.

He hopes not. He  _pleads_.

He drags his fingers over his boyfriend's face. His hair was even shaggier here; Kuroo smiles. It's a good look. It's an ID picture, Tsukishima can't be more than eighteen or nineteen in this. Tsukishima never talks about that time, or any time in his past.

There's so much at Kuroo's fingertips, it finally dawns on him. Does he have the right?

No.

But he can't stop.

Looking up at the ceiling, he takes a deep breath, and then his eyes are back on the paper, sliding down.

_Status: Marked._

Marked, right. The chip. It's not a surprise at first, but then Kuroo glances over to the corresponding date, and his stomach drops. He reads it again. And again. And as many times as it takes for his brain to soak it up and for his stomach to drop.

The image of the chip on Tsukishima's neck flashes in his mind. He always did think the placement was odd; after all, the cops in the city put chips on people's wrists.

He reads the date one last time, before reality crashes into him. He remembers the first day he met Tsukishima, the reluctance to go back to the North even to visit.

He'd blamed it on marriage, but here, it was clear Tsukishima had been single. He'd blamed it on homesickness, but that was only the half of it.

Tsukishima was right. He couldn't go back home, but not for the reasons he gave Kuroo.

Tsukishima's city residence only began a few months ago, but he was chipped before that. He was chipped  _in_  the Northern Water Tribe.

The date says it all, and just below it, a second status branded him for life.

_Banished_.

Kuroo's blood runs cold, and a row of books Matsukawa hadn't stacked properly topples over near him. Kuroo jumps, and his breathing comes out harsher, the echo of rain pelting the sidewalk so close.

He shouldn't be able to hear it; and the possibility of it being a warning from his brain is too much to handle.

It's an ideal night for a killer.

Kuroo doesn't get this nervous anymore, he hasn't felt  _this_  searing anxiety since childhood. But he might have a panic attack in this moment, he might fall apart right on this floor. He can feel his chest getting tighter and his vision blurring. The need to  _run_.

But he's not done yet. He wants to bang his head against the nearest bookshelf but he's not  _done_  yet.

With desperate breaths, he reads the charges.

_Banished_.

It's a terrible word. He thinks of Tsukishima's fondness for his homeland, the air of 'otherness' he's cast over it.

When Kuroo reads the next lines, he understands why. The home had been tainted, by Tsukishima's own hands.

_Offense: Subject used bloodbending to attack the late Chief Tsukishima Atsuto. Victim did not survive. The mercy of exile was a verdict handed down by Chief Tsukishima Akiteru. The court documents can be found at the Hall of Public Records in the Northern Water Tribe. No jury present._

This time, he can't stand to read it again.

There's no mistaking that word, and word so taboo and unspoken, it's barely mentioned by the news reports.

Bloodbending.

But somehow, this feels so much worse. He almost says it aloud, but he chokes on the word, as if the coppery taste of blood were already in his mouth.

A secondary casualty; that's what Kuroo is. He's fallen, in more ways than one.

His hands crack as they tighten against paper, and he feels he might faint. This is worse than bloodbending.

Bloodbending saved his life, whether or not he likes to acknowledge it. But this...

Chief Tsukishima Atsuto.

He hears his boyfriend's voice in his head, all too clear.

_"I have a brother, but...we don't exactly see eye to eye. My dad passed away."_

Passed away, or was he killed?

Kuroo doesn't have to ask, he holds the evidence in his hands. The faraway look in Tsukishima's eyes then, the hesitance...it means so much more than shyness can explain.

_"It's...hard to be constantly reminded of things that are gone."_

Or live with things you  _wish_  were gone.

Tsukishima had taken fate into his own hands, for a reason Kuroo is scared to know. But he'll have to know, he won't be able to live with himself otherwise.

He shakes his head; Tsukishima's words are as loud as megaphones, sped up and squeezed together.

All the sadness, Tsukishima's incessant need to  _hide_. To not be recognized as a waterbender. It hadn't all been for general safety, had it? Startled reaction, stuttering words...

All the signs had been there.

Kuroo is sick to his stomach, but even worse, the rational side of his brain is joining in on the fight. Every new connection is a punch to the gut, bordering on steel-toed kicks.

How did Tsukishima manage to move here so peacefully, without question? Why was he not in prison?

Scanning the lines again, he sees.

_No jury present_. That's definitely not customary, not legal, and it's code for something swept under the rug.

Chief Tsukishima Atsuto. Chief Tsukishima Akiteru. It's not  _that_  common of a last name, but Kuroo's already figured that part out. Everything stays in the family it seems, even this. It makes him want to cry, but it gives Kuroo an answer.

No one else knows, whether in the Water Tribes or elsewhere. Why?

Why this?

Reputation, gossip, there could be a number of reasons. But none that justify...letting a  _criminal_  on the loose.

If it was anyone else, Kuroo would be out the door already, taking this information to the police. Taking justice into his own hands.

If  _he_  were anyone else.

If he weren't so hopelessly in love.

But he's not just anybody else, he's Tsukishima Kei's boyfriend. Proud to be.

At that, Kuroo sags against the floor.

Tsukishima isn't only a criminal to him, is he? It's what makes this impossible. Kuroo thinks of the blond's gentle, genuine smiles. The southern lights which bathed him in colors, everything he's done for Kuroo. Every word, every touch. Sweet nothings, and laughter. The pile of stuffed animals in the corner of Tsukishima's room, Kuroo's clothes in his laundry. None of that was a lie.

Kuroo wouldn't believe it.

With misty eyes, Kuroo crumbles the file in his hands, and wants more than anything to burn it.

Things don't make sense; the doubt is so violent he wants to retch.

He replays all of Tsukishima lies, about Daishou, about his home. How he left.

Tsukishima. It's a family name Kuroo should know, it's  _nobility_. But the politics of the North have never been a sight of tension, not in the last hundred years. He'd been so dumb, combing through the noble family names to find  _Daishou_  when he should've been looking at the chiefs.

He's so stupid. He should feel so  _stupid_  for believing Tsukishima, but at the same time...

He can't regret it. Kuroo can't regret anything.

It stings all the more.

Kuroo's shoulders shake, and he bites his lip to resist yelling into the empty hall. That won't help him. He doesn't know what will. He wants so badly to go home, but how can he?

The definition has become so unfairly intertwined with Tsukishima, and it speaks volumes. Someone so cozy, so warm...he can't be the killer. And yet, Kuroo still holds the file.

Defeated, Kuroo clutches the box, folding Tsukishima's file back into it as nicely as he can. It's wrinkled, but they can blame it on poor organization and disarray.

He just needs to know one more thing.

With shaky, fumbling hands, he digs through the box roughly. Searching. He doesn't care about the papercuts he's getting, or the ones still raw. His dry hands rifle until he finds another name. The last file. 

_Daishou Suguru._

With only mild awe, Kuroo finds Daishou's picture shows a much happier man as well. Mischievous, shit eating, but glowing. How times have changed.

Kuroo's eyes find the charges immediately, the exact same as Tsukishima's.

Accomplices, failed partners, cast out together.

Maybe the worst thing of all, is looking at Daishou's family name. The stamps on his passport photo are an added touch; Kuroo knows his suspicions are confirmed. Daishou isn't nobility, and his status is single. He and Tsukishima were never together, not on paper, not in spirit, not from either family's perspective.

No union, not in love anyways. But in a conspiracy...

Kuroo can't bear to think about it, but he might not have a choice. His skin crawls as the roof rumbles from thunder, the promise of blood on the horizon, and he might know the spillers.

He shoves the box away from him, down the row until it slams pathetically into a bookcase, and doesn't move again.

\--

Hours go by before he finds himself at a door he's oh so familiar with. The rain is coming down in sheets, but Kuroo doesn't bother with his hood.

His legs ache from sitting on the cold, concrete floor for so long, but when he finally managed to get up...

Again, his legs carried him where he needed to be, everytime.

He can see a faint light through the door's small window; someone's home, and judging by the feeling in his gut, Kuroo knows exactly who.

With a sigh, he stiffly fishes out the key Tsukishima gave him. A present. After all, Kuroo spent most of his time there anyways, he should have a key. That had been Tsukishima's reasoning.

So trusting, for someone so secretive. So trusting of Kuroo.

_What am I doing?_

He doesn't answer. He pushes the key into the lock, swinging the door open as quietly as he can. As much as he wants to view this as walking into the lion's den, he can't.

This is his boyfriend's home, nothing more. His heart won't be swayed.

No one comes to greet him, but that's not a problem. He likes finding Kei, sprawled out in bed or rifling through books. Vulnerable, unguarded.

It always brought a smile to Kuroo's face.

He swallows, passing by the pile of mail on the small dining table. Names jump out, ones he doesn't know or doesn't care about. Electric bills. Dock fees. The council office. Yamaka Mika.

None of it matters.

The home feels different now, despite its familiarity. The relics and artifacts of a tribe so beloved, Tsukishima still stares at them wistfully. Yet, he'd been the one to throw it all away.

Kuroo eyes the tapestries, once bright purple and deep blue. They looks so faded now, a sham.

He wishes he could see everything that way now, as it clearly was. A farce.

But when he reaches Tsukishima's bedroom, he just can't. Part of him, maybe the hopeless part, fights to see beyond what the evidence says.

It's not always right, after all. Paper can't replace the real thing, the truth locked away behind honey-brown eyes. And whether or not he is wrong, Kuroo can't help but think he'd love to have them be the last thing he sees.

Tsukishima sits on the floor in the middle of his room, bathed in lamplight, undisturbed.

Kuroo's heart gives, as his entire being does, completely at the blond's mercy. But Tsukishima had never asked for that authority; he'd never acted strange or aggressive, never threatened Kuroo.

The man in front of him is simply content to rummage through old memories, without scorn. He looks at Kuroo the same way, so fondly.

Kuroo can't treat him like an enemy. Not after carnival dates, bending lessons, whispers in turtle duck boats.

With a quiet sigh and quieter steps, Kuroo walks into Tsukishima's room. There's a trunk in front of the blond, the first time Kuroo's seen it open. Loads of Water Tribe clothes, jewelry, and accessories are layered neatly inside. Untouched.

_"I don't feel like me, so I don't want to dress like me."_

Something in Kuroo tugs. Was that a lie too? Had this all been for the sake of hiding in plain sight.

He can't really fathom it right now.

Tsukishima hands drift over the white fur lining the coats and sleeves, and his nails dig into what Kuroo knows is unbelievably soft fabric. There's a pause, a tremble of his shoulders, and Kuroo knows the file is wrong.

With all its facts, it's wrong.

No one who takes life so easily cares  _this_  much. It's not the regret of someone who got caught. Tsukishima raises one of the coats out, dark blue. Perfect for winter, for the fresh, unmarred powder Tsukishima can hardly ever see again.

At the sadness on Tsukishima's face, Kuroo finds it in him to speak. It comes out normal, or as normal as he can manage. He needs his answers, but... "You should wear them again."

As fast as redirected lightning, Tsukishima's head snaps to his voice. The trunk's lid comes slamming down, the whole thing pushed away in a simple movement.

Like moving ice, so sharp and graceful.

Tsukishima stands, embarrassed, the blush notable on his soft features. Kuroo loves that look. Tsukishima stares at him in silence a few more seconds, then his shoulders deflate, the tension lessening.

Trust.

It's just Kuroo, after all.

"You're here," Tsukishima says, and there's a happy lilt in his voice which makes Kuroo's mind shatter. He doesn't know what to do.

He knows the options. None of them seem right.

He swallows instead, giving a short laugh. "Of course, I missed you."

It's the truth, and he could leave it at that. He watches as Tsukishima smiles to himself, taking his first step forward to close the gap between them.

Something in Kuroo snaps.

"I meant it though," he stays, firm. Tsukishima freezes.

He shouldn't be pressing like this, it could be dangerous. The news reports flash in his mind, Matsukawa's warnings...

He won't heed them. He won't be reduced to that. He sees Tsukishima's confused, cute face in front of him, and crumbles. "You know, you should wear your clothes again. I'd protect you. And you’re waterbending again so, it won’t be so weird."

_You'd still feel like you._

But that isn't the only reason Tsukishima avoids it, is it?

Startled, Tsukishima scoffs, walking towards Kuroo again. Kuroo wonders how close he'll have to be to feel it, the rift between them. How something is different.

Tsukishima is still giggling when he reaches a hand out for Kuroo's wrist, where the veins are. He likes to feel the pulse. "I already told you, it's too dangerous and--"

"Why is it dangerous Kei?" Kuroo's voice sits like a stone sinking to the ocean.

_What are you hiding from me?_

And Tsukishima, so smart, finds that meaning immediately.

The blond's hand stops, as if it hits a wall. His fingers curl into a fist, unsure of what else to really do. Those beautiful eyes flash up to Kuroo's, and ah, he sees.

He knows.

Kuroo's eyes are wide and fearful, but accusatory. The intensity there...Kuroo feels it in his chest. He hates that he has to make Tsukishima look this way though. So afraid.

The realization hits the blond, and he buckles under the gaze; his hand drops, keeping the two feet between them.

They just stare at each other. Deadlocked.

Is he going to make Kuroo ask? To verbalize the accusation.

He doesn't know if either of them can take it.

Tsukishima bites his lip, and he holds his chin higher, unwilling to sacrifice an ounce of pride. It's the first time Tsukishima looks close to crying, and in that moment, Kuroo is sure, sure of what he wanted to believe from the beginning.

He's safe here, and he's always been safe here. He wants to claw out his eyes, or maybe turn back time.

But no, he had to look at those files. He saves his apology; it's premature. As painful as it is, he locks it away and waits. He had a right to know, and he'd seized his opportunity. There's no going back.

Maybe that's what he owes Tsukishima,  _his_  Tsukishima, the most right now. To stop waiting for what they both knew would surely come. They’re both in the wrong, but how much?

From day one, Kuroo sensed a mystery, and from day one, Tsukishima hid away. Fortunately, love was a two way street in their case. Kuroo had worn away every single one of Tsukishima's locks, until only the last one stood, rusting by the second.

Tsukishima shakes his head, not in any attempt to dissuade Kuroo to speak, but as if to apologize already.

'I didn't mean to.'

And already, Kuroo knows.

"Kei?" He whispers, letting his voice rise above the patter of rain over their shoddy roof.

Tsukishima stays put, his eyes glazed over, shaking in his spot. Not even the warmth of tribal clothing would probably help. This chill is different. "Yes?"

"Why were you banished?" For some reason, as soon as he says the dreaded word, the fear melts off him. Tsukishima's eyes tremble, but Kuroo can't stop. "I just...please Kei I have to know, it's driving me insane."

There's tears in his eyes, and he hates his voice. It's so clouded and pathetic, but the guilt which crosses Tsukishima's face is worse than Kuroo’s own.

“H-How do you know that?” Tsukishima stutters, as if trying to drum up some weak anger, anything to avoid the truth. Everything is on the table now. “How do you know _anything_?”

_‘Why didn’t you ask me?’_

It goes unsaid, but they both know the answer. Would Tsukishima have told him on his own time? Kuroo doesn’t know; but honestly, if it was Kuroo, he’d bury that part of his life forever. He’d start anew.

That is what he did, on a smaller scale. He understands. It’s why this is so hard.

“I found your file,” he says, straightforward and without excuses. “It wasn’t right.”

This whole thing isn’t right.

“No, it wasn’t,” Tsukishima whispers, his hand covering his mouth. He’s shaking his head, at what Kuroo doesn’t know. The bite and rage that’s supposed to come with the accusation is absent from the blond’s eyes for a fleeting moment, until he forces it back.

As wrong as Kuroo is, it means Tsukishima is too, just as much. But it looks like they’ll need to work up to that.

“You had no _right_ ,” Tsukishima spits, hitting Kuroo like ice to the chest. Tsukishima is capable, a waterbender in every sense of the word.

“I know I didn’t,” Kuroo says, keeping himself in check. He isn’t here for this, but he lets Tsukishima tear into him. He needs it.

Tsukishima scoffs, his eyes desperate and searching. He reaches for a tapestry, tugging. Like by just uncovering that, he could cover up his entire life, painted with deep blue and purple. Tsukishima flash in his direction. “Then why the hell _did_ you? I’m not some stranger--”

“I know you’re not!” Kuroo snaps then, because that he won’t allow. He won’t let Tsukishima get the wrong idea. Of course he knows that. Tsukishima is the farthest thing from a stranger, he holds Kuroo’s whole damn heart.

“Then why?”

“Because I—" Kuroo raises his arms, stumbling through it. Why, he asks. It’s not easy to admit, or easy for Tsukishima to hear. He looks at Tsukishima, really looks. He thinks back to all those times Kuroo questioned him, waiting for him to finally reveal himself in full. To remove the veil…

But he never had. And maybe, just maybe, Kuroo is still unbearably hurt by that. He trembles as he speaks, and his voice carries as big of a blow as the blond’s; sharp, metallic. “Because we both know you wouldn’t have told me otherwise.”

He can see the moment it hits Tsukishima, too real. Too personal. The blond stumbles over the gentle patterns of the tapestry, his fingers twisting in it. He’s still so beautiful next to it, in all his sadness and displacement. Tsukishima doesn’t belong here in the city, it’s true.

But he does belong with Kuroo. He just has to make the blond embrace that.

To accept that he’s not going anywhere.

Tsukishima’s eyes mist over again as his gaze falls to the floor, the silence almost choking. The rain batters on, unstoppable.

Kuroo can’t help but find himself cruel, just for a minute. He knows Tsukishima can’t dodge his way out of this, but he wants to hold him all the same. To protect him from… _everything_.

_Please, just talk to me._

_Please let me._

And then, Kuroo swears he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to him.

Tsukishima’s eyes lock onto his again, the ire dissolving. He has to see it, how afraid and torn up Kuroo is. But it’s a different fear, it’s a fear of not being trusted, of not knowing how to help.

He’ll never be afraid of Tsukishima, no matter what he does. Even now, with the gloom of unspoken words and an unraveling mystery hanging in the air, Kuroo’s foot is extended forward again. He’s ready to cross the border, to bridge the gap, so comfortable in Tsukishima’s arms.

To think he could stay away at all, to think he could so much as try and limit their time apart...

What a foolish thing.

Tsukishima’s hand drops, still trembling at his side. His eyes find the walls around him, decorated with the artifacts and memories from his home, a home taken from him. But to Kuroo, it’s a celebration, not a shrine, and he’s been welcomed into it so many times already.

Tsukishima’s eyes widen when the same dawns on him; Kuroo is permanent, like those memories, but he won’t treat the old ones without care.

_Let me go back home with you._

To a time before things fell apart. And when Kuroo knows every grimy, grisly detail, he’ll hold Tsukishima just as close as before.

Tsukishima looks at him, and invites him in.

With slow, cautious steps, Tsukishima extends his arms. The reaction is instantaneous.

Kuroo falls in, because when Tsukishima is concerned, he'll take the plunge every time. His steps cross the few feet in a matter of milliseconds, he crashes into the one he loves.

It’s better than any feeling out there, despite the dread still sitting heavy.

He weeps into Tsukishima's shoulder; the catharsis is too overwhelming for him to handle. He wants to apologize, but he knows Tsukishima gets that too. He understands that Kuroo does need to know, and from the way Tsukishima shakes against him, he’s sorry too.

So much of Tsukishima’s love for his culture bathes them, encompasses them in the little room, but for the first time, Kuroo feels as if he’s about to take a step into the past, willingly tagging along with Tsukishima next to him.

Gently, the blond pulls Kuroo to the bed, running his hand through his messy hair one last time. It's still damp from the rain, and Tsukishima laughs slightly, the only good sign Kuroo can find.

Kuroo wants nothing more than to lean against him, to fall asleep in his arms.

But the night's only begun, and he can feel the words on the tip of Tsukishima's tongue. The steady patience, the anticipation of the inevitable.

Sniffling, Kuroo sits up, facing Tsukishima on the bed as the blond sighs. The need to apologize flares up again, but Tsukishima shushes him, shaking his head. It’s not the most important thing to him right now. "Kuroo, before I say anything, and I will say  _everything_ , you have to promise me something."

A promise. It might seem kind of pointless now, with Tsukishima keeping so much from him. Anyone else would demand the reverse, or say it meant nothing. But Kuroo is too loving and too devoted, and besides...

Tsukishima is the same way with him.

"Of course," Kuroo breathes, gripping Tsukishima's hand. It's as natural as thinking. "Anything for you."

And it'll always be that way, they're on the same team.

Tsukishima dips his head, nodding. The instinct to curl in on himself must be strong.

But with misty eyes, Tsukishima squeezes back, and honors Kuroo with his gaze. As firm and strong as the day he stepped in front of Asahi's stand to defend him. "Please don't think that it's me."

Kuroo tenses, but Tsukishima is adamant. "I know...given everything it's...it looks bad, but it's not  _me_. You have to believe that, okay?"

_'You have to believe in me.'_

It's so desperate, Tsukishima never begs. And without even thinking about it, Kuroo does.

He has no idea what he's in for, but he nods, putting every bit of sincerity into it as he can. His voice has left him though, and Tsukishima senses it. He has the floor. Exhaling loudly, chest too tight, Tsukishima rises from the bed. It's a shame to let go of his hand, and Kuroo hangs onto it until the very last moment.

Then, he leans back, and settles in. He'll stay as long as Tsukishima needs, and he'll listen.

Even as Tsukishima stands with his face to the wall, unwilling to look back.

The lightning flares outside and soaks them in natural light for a moment, and Tsukishima almost looks regal. The silhouette of the chief's son.

Tsukishima holds his breath, and forces all the words out, a history spanning over twenty years.

"It started with my brother..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....so I guess this is a bad time to say that this fic is going on a short hiatus,,, NOT A LONG ONE, midterms are coming up and I'm actually all out of prewritten chapters so I'm giving myself two weeks to just...get my shit together. In the meantime, I'll still be posting one shots that I already have written so it won't be a complete dry spell ; ;
> 
> thank you so much everyone for reading this fic! I never thought I'd get this far and the fact that this is already looking to be my longest fic is just kdlsfjkds I can't believe it! It wouldn't be possible without all the support <3
> 
> See you soon! 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	11. in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! and with a longer chapter this time ^^ I'm gonna try to get chapters out as frequently as I can but again I'm writing blind once more so be patient with me <3 
> 
> Big thanks to [EmeraldWaves](url) for reading this over!

He doesn't know why he's crouched down; it's not like he's hunting right now. There's no game on the horizon or a snow hare crossing his path.

There's just the endless, flat landscape of the North Pole on one side, so vast Tsukishima once thought it led to the edge of the world. He could see it, snowy powder pouring off the ends of the Earth.

As a child, he thought he might try and reach that point, to dig his flag into the ground just before the waterfall of moss and ice.

Ridiculous, but he can't help but smile anyways. He's alone, so it's okay. The icy air hits his cheeks, biting, the fur of his hood billowing from the wind. It's never cold to him, when it's like this.

He's older now, and terribly fond; content to stay right where he is. Home. At one time, the edge of the Earth offered more, presented adventure and knowledge. But he soon found that adventure was overrated.

He still feels that way, with his knees digging into the snow of the steady land, made new with every passing storm.

Tsukishima sighs, loud and aggravated. Why is he thinking about this now of all times? There's things to do, an unease in the air.

There shouldn't be, nothing is changing. It's just...

Tsukishima turns back to the direction of the town, the noises of the mid-afternoon in full swing. He can't stay here forever; soon he'll have to meet Shirabu by the docks and  _eat_.

The echo of his brother's voice fills his head.

_You can't go to the ceremony on an empty stomach!_

Right. Fine.

Nothing is changing, nothing to worry about. The ceremony only lasts for the night, and then he can disappear again, forgotten. The second son.

Just the way he likes it, himself and the snow. Akiteru was always better at the chief stuff anyways, and this way...

Well, this way their father leaves Tsukishima alone.

He stands, looking at the water beneath the small cliff. The other side of his post. Here, there's nothing but the sea. It's the closest he could get, a spot where the ice dipped low enough that the drop wouldn't be too far.

He  _has_  to practice this. It's some strange pride thing inside him, as frustrating as it is waking up in the morning. There's no point in attempting this, he  _knows_  how to do it. It's a simple move for someone with his training, yet when he'd woken up that morning, his brain had contemptuously bothered him about it.

_Do you **really**  know how?_

And it had been enough. Tsukishima couldn't shake the feeling and anxiety, and what should've been a morning of relaxation and celebratory stew turned into  _this_.

A mile out from town, the edge of the sea.

_Do I really know how?_

He asks himself as he watches the waves lap at the solid ice, unmoved. The water doesn't give up though, resilient in all its power, never stopping.

A force of nature which crumbles cliffs and civilizations. Something only a master can bend completely to their will.

And Tsukishima can only think:  _yes, I do_.

With a sharp inhale, he dives. There's no room to think, to picture the movements as if he's still studying from scrolls and bending pamphlets.

There's no need anymore; his body hits the freezing water, and it reacts.

A water vortex. A stupid  _water vortex_.

Any self doubt he had seems meaningless now. Tsukishima closes his eyes, feels the chill rush through him, a spike of adrenaline. He lets himself sink a few feet, uncalculated. There's no set method to this, like the books used to tell him, trying to achieve a certain depth.

Tsukishima waits until it feels  _right_ , and then his arms spread, twisting as his body does.

Once, twice; the water flows around him.

Then, he can breathe again.

He shoots up, propelled by the water spinning around his body. It's so fast he's seen it cut through the icy shelves, and he breathes when his body breaks through the surface of the water, climbing higher and higher.

He thought one day he might actually reach the clouds; that  _this_  is as close as it gets to flying like an airbender.

He still believes that. Planes or not.

The sound of the water rushing at such a high speed is deafening, lifting Tsukishima up even more, a tornado of frigidness. He knows it's pointless to keep this up much longer, a waste of energy. The water roars, spiraling, but he enjoys it just a bit longer as his arms move automatically, his muscles working to keep him up.

From here, he can see the entire landscape of his home, the dark sand of the beaches, the ice floats. He can see where the land drops off, fashioned into a large gate by the docks.

It's open he realizes, he can see the ships from Republic City and the other nations trickling in, their imports ready to entice.

Tsukishima is late. Not for anything in particular, but he'd planned out his day. If he has any hope of keeping a level head during the ceremony, he best stick to it.

For his own good.

With some reluctance, he propels himself forward, the vortex pushing him towards the cliff side. Tsukishima recovers easily, raising some of the snow up to form a makeshift landing pad. The vortex falls behind him with a crash, a testament to his achievement.

Yeah, he definitely knows how to do it.

With that in mind, he gets ready to go. His feet slide on the ice as he spins, a dance he's so familiar with he doesn't dream of slipping. The water soaking his clothes is pulled out in a matter of seconds. It leaves him with a ring of water around him, which he gratefully returns to the ocean below.

As much as he doesn't mind the cold, if his brother catches him in a wet parka, he'll be done for.

The sound of a ship's horn echoes off the shoreline, and Tsukishima breathes in. He can still make it on time if he uses what Shirabu calls the 'show-off' method.

He's still a good mile out, and if he sticks to the shore, no one will see...

No one will be able to nag him about wasted energy. And truly, when it comes to this...Tsukishima doesn't know if there's such a thing.

With adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Tsukishima smirks, and he's off in an instant. His feet don't touch the ground, riding waves of water and ice which he pulls up from the ground.

Flying, even on Earth.

\--

He only ever thinks about his mother when he visits the docks, and not for sentimental reasons.

Or, he tells himself that.

The shop stalls are lined with dark and vibrant shades of green, Earth Kingdom dolls, trinkets, books. It's like a forest, the only spot of foliage in the measureless fields of ice. It's through that forest Tsukishima allows his mind to wander, to think of what things he might've shared with her.

He doesn't resent her, for leaving. His father had most likely been the one to push her away, and with no claim to the chief's children despite their blood relation...

Well, Tsukishima thinks she's lucky, for escaping in such a way.

Still, as a result, his hands glide over green silks and robes. None of them tend to be built for the cold, yet the vendors keep coming.

The Earth Kingdom's culture is beautiful in its own way, its bending...difficult. It's one of his favorites to study, to foolishly try to mimic in the empty library aisles. Planted feet, sharp, stable movements.

Airbending and firebending are just as fascinating, but earth...

It's not trying to be graceful in the slightest, and therefore presents more of a challenge for Tsukishima's muscles. He's been ingrained with slow, consistent moves. Flowing.

Even now as he walks, he's almost skating on the snow. He plants his feet, stomping. After all, he'll never be able to integrate earthbending techniques if he doesn't try to follow through with it.

He hears Shirabu's voice in his head.  _"Keep studying the other nations, you'll forget how to waterbend."_

As if he could ever.

A green hood catches his eye, detached, and so rare for the clothing stalls. Most Earthbending ware is built for the sun, for deserts and dusty terrain. This though...maybe this he can fashion to one of the cloaks his mother left him.

He's already been adding sleeves to it...

Mind made up, he pays for it with a few bills before folding it neatly into his bag. After that, it's straight ahead, to the same docking station.

Republic City's.

Even their ships stink like smog and city, and Tsukishima grimaces. He'd think out of everyone, Shirabu would hate it the most. As familiar as they were, Tsukishima isn't afraid to say Shirabu is snooty. He's the snootiest.

As if to prove the point, Tsukishima spots him on a snow mound, face pinched and eyes scathing.

Exactly.

The noble has a weird fascination with the city, probably because he's training to be an ambassador, like his parents. Tsukishima is not envious.

Shirabu doesn't even look at him as Tsukishima walks up, eyes trained on the back of a large tome he's holding. "Ready for tonight?"

Tsukishima wonders if Shirabu is being purposefully malicious, bringing up things Tsukishima would rather not think about. Before he can answer, Shirabu's gaze cuts to him, and he takes a long, offended inhale. "You smell like salt. Have you been training?"

Damn.

Plopping beside him, Tsukishima shrugs. "I just...went for a swim."

"Mhm. You know most people tend to relax the day they're about to be crowned a master," Shirabu says, watching as the dock workers unload more crates. Admittedly, Tsukishima does too. He tracks their movements, the way they manipulate the earth to form ramps.

It could probably work the same with ice.

"Stop that," Shirabu sighs. "You don't have to learn from everything."

"And you don't have to study so hard," Tsukishima jabs, finally reading the title of the tome.  _A History of Republic City. "_ You're only going to be there for a week, they're not going to quiz you on the city's founding."

"It leaves a good impression on us to be informed." Even so, Shirabu's cheeks color, and he stuffs the bag away.

It's amusing, to say the least. Shirabu gets him, in that they don't have to talk much. But when they do, it's Tsukishima's mission to get some kind of reaction out of him. He tends to; it's what make their daily meetups so exciting.

"I'm sure you're learning much more useful stuff from that penpal of yours," Tsukishima says. He'd thought about doing that once, but he knows he wouldn't have much to say. Water Tribe folk are simple. They hunt, they have feasts...

Ugh, the feast. Tsukishima is not looking forward to having people force feed him until he explodes.

"He's just a dock worker," Shirabu says with a shrug, and there's more there, but he's not willing to get into it. That's fine; Tsukishima is sure it'll come up later. Shirabu squints at him, at the wet soles of his boots and the steady rise and fall of Tsukishima's chest. Evidence of expended energy. "You really should be going home. If you don't beat your brother there, he'll nag you worse than anyone."

It's Shirabu's way of saying 'you need to rest,' and Tsukishima knows he's right. Besides, his brother had told him that morning to take it easy.

His father hadn't said anything.

And honestly, maybe that's his biggest reason for not staying home and sleeping the day away. He does a lot to not be home  _ever_. But his brother doesn't know that, and will chalk it up to Tsukishima pushing himself too hard.

There's no avoiding it, and there's no avoiding tonight, no matter how much he'd prefer to stay on this snow mound.

Suppressing a groan, he stands. Guess they'll cut their 'talk' short today. Tsukishima looks off, further down the beach where the ships no longer line the land, and thinks he can at least take the scenic route.

The longer one.

"Don't overload your brain," he says as a goodbye, and Shirabu's glare is enough to get him through the rest of the day. He'll let the other stew in his nerves about his first embassy visit, like he hasn't prepared his whole life for it.

Tsukishima supposes he could apply that lesson to himself, but he won't. It's not worry he feels, he knows he's earned the right to be recognized as a master. He just doesn't understand why it has to be such a big event.

The woe of being the chief's son, even if he's the less popular one.

The thought of having to talk with more people other than Shirabu and his fellow students is...daunting. It's really the only socializing he gets, apart from market stall workers, and his family. Even then, the latter has been scarcer and scarcer. But Tsukishima likes it that way. The local librarians and polar bear dog puppies are better company anyways.

Tonight will be more people than he can handle, all watching him, praising him. He'd be completely content to not deal with anyone else until then.

He guesses it's wishful thinking.

Tsukishima lets his feet sink into the dark sand, watching the waves reach just below his feet. The urge to jump in is staggering, and he walks a little faster until he reaches a hill.

He pauses when he hears a curse, and a light thud against the snowy ground. It's stupid, the way his muscles tense.

There's no threat here, hasn't been in the whole tribe for a long time. Unless one counts snowmobile theft.

Tsukishima forces himself to relax before he keeps walking, curiosity running high. It's still not like anyone to be out here by themselves...

When he reaches the dip in the land and sees who it is, he truly does wish he'd just walked the other way.

Daishou Suguru sits on half of a broken canoe, whittling away at...stone. Expensive stone.

At the waterbender's feet sit two or three other 'attempts,' butchered shale and other types of rock which have been brutally carved. None of the patterns are recognizable.

Tsukishima could laugh, if it wasn't so sad.

Tsukishima stares as Daishou takes a deep breath, calming himself before working at the next stone with his knife. He stares up at the sky, whispering what Tsukishima assumes are lines of encouragement. When he goes back to his work, there's a notable refinement. His movements are more careful this time, gentle. The pieces of soft rock slowly begin to fall in chips down to the snow; shapes form.

Even Tsukishima isn't mean enough to startle him at this time, he'd have to be a fool to not understand what Daishou is doing. Guess even jerks want to get married at some point.

At least Daishou has to work for it. Betrothal necklaces are no easy task, one wrong nick into the stone and it's over. He's never struck Tsukishima as being particularly artistic, but he's obviously trying for Mika.

How such a bright, talented woman could fall for such a person...

Tsukishima would never understand.

He waits for Daishou to pause before he makes his presence known, his feet loudly stomping through the powder at his feet.

Daishou jumps, barely catching the carving before it falls to the floor. His glare could freeze cities, if it weren't rivaling Tsukishima's.

Against him, Daishou never could claim victory.

For a minute, as if he doesn't fully recognize Tsukishima, he just stares. Tsukishima has never faltered under that gaze, even when it's on the other side of the training arena, or sneering at him from across the street.

Daishou is a pothole at best, inconvenient and annoying, but not a threat. And as much as Tsukishima hates being looked down on, to Daishou, he's probably nothing more than oxen shit under his shoe.

It's healthy.

When Daishou does finally process Tsukishima standing there, his grimace only deepens. "What do  _you_  want? Aren't you busy getting ready to show off tonight?"

Head held high, Tsukishima walks over, deliberately stepping on the wasted betrothal stones. He can see where Daishou tried to carve some sort of shell, and failed miserably. "They won't test me."

He prays they don't. It's such an archaic tradition, but he hadn't ignored the possibility. There was a reason he dove into the depths this morning. He had to be ready for anything.

Still, at most he expects to give a small speech, to be received warmly by the crowd.

Daishou sneers. "Right. Chief's kids get all the special treatment. But you're not the one people usually care about, are you? Does your dad even give you the time of day?"

Tsukishima bristles. Of course he's not who people care about, but he likes it that way. Akiteru is the successor; he's always been better at the political stuff, the  _people_  stuff. It's not a problem in that sense, but...

His father's face flashes in his mind, serious and grave, like Tsukishima is already six feet under in his mind.

It's a point of contention in their household, to say the least. Not that Daishou would know or care about any of that.

So honestly, he deserves this. "Will Yamaka-san give  _you_  the time of day when she sees the monstrosity you're carving?"

Daishou actually flinches, eyes drifting towards the stone in his hand, and Tsukishima smirks. The growl in Daishou's throat is biting, challenging, and well...

Tsukishima wouldn't hesitate to duke it out, as barbaric as it is. He's got a lot pent up himself, and the last thing he needs is Daishou pissing him off.

Tsukishima will win, like he always does.

Instead, Daishou just spits his words, despite the high flush on his face. Tsukishima refuses to flinch. Those eyes, snake-like and squinting, cut into him. His fingertips graze Tsukishima's chest, and Tsukishima inhales. If Daishou even  _thinks_  of pushing him---"Watch yourself Tsukishima, I don't give a damn  _who_  you are. I swear I'll--"

"Suguru!" A friendly, bouncy voice echoes across the plain. They turn to look at the same time, only to find Mika slowly trotting towards them.

Tsukishima hears Daishou choke, sees the exact moment he panics. The other looks down at his blade, at his failed attempts, brain stalling.

He doesn't know where to begin, how to react, on the verge of being discovered.

Mika's steps near closer and closer.

Tsukishima hates him. He really does, in all his arrogance and fake claims to intimidation. Daishou, easily flustered, easily angered, and so not worth Tsukishima's time. He should've stayed away, and now, he definitely should watch Daishou's plan crumble in his face.

But Mika's smile is apparent when he turns around, she's almost there...

Tsukishima, no matter how he feels about Daishou, can't bring himself to hate her. And if she loves Daishou so much...fine. Whatever.

Before Daishou so much as remembers how to breathe, Tsukishima's foot glides, bending the nearby snow until it discreetly covers the evidence on the ground. Daishou looks up at him, sharing a few seconds of painfully shocked eye contact before the other finally springs into action.

He doesn't question Tsukishima, only sighs, begrudgingly thankful. As Mika reaches them, he stuffs the stone in his hands deep into his parka.

Safe.

Tsukishima knows he'll get nothing out of this, but when Mika's confused face turns into joy upon seeing him, he guesses he doesn't care much.

"Tsukishima-san! Why are you here? You should be getting ready!" Her auburn hair sticks to her forehead, her flushed face framed by stylish gold ear muffs. Obviously a purchase from the fire nation.

It seems she's more prepared for tonight than he himself is, dressed in her finest boots, leggings, and a casual dress. Her mother really does pay attention to the details of her clothes; the skirt is lined by dark blue stitches, with little crescent moons every few inches. The white fur trim of the skirt matches the one around her hood.

It's impossible to not relax in her presence. Still, Tsukishima grimaces. "I still have a few hours."

He does. Though, judging from Mika's unimpressed stare, that means nothing. "You still shouldn't be out here! You should rest! What if they test you?"

Tsukishima clicks his tongue as Mika steps close to Daishou, snuggling into his side. He doesn't think he's ever seen Daishou so happy. It's gross.

"They haven't done that in years."

"They might want you to demonstrate though," Mika chides, puffing out her cheeks. Then, the mischievous glint comes back to her eyes, her voice a playful singsong. "And when you doooo, you should look nice! Don't forget the outfit my mom made you!"

How could he forget it? Mika had practically forced it on him, despite Tsukishima's protest. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but it looked expensive. He couldn't accept it, and yet Mika and her mother had insisted. As thanks for helping Mika with her own training, but still...

He hasn't touched it, or taken it out of its box, too afraid to somehow taint it. He's not putting it on until the last second, that's for sure.

"I won't, promise," Tsukishima mumbles, already turning away from them. He can't be around to witness this love fest, especially with Daishou still burning subtle daggers into his head.

"Wow, big words," Mika teases, snickering into Daishou's side as Tsukishima gives them a small wave. "Make sure to look for us! We'll be there watching you!"

"We  _will_?!" Daishou's voice is a borderline shriek, but Tsukishima doesn't turn around to see his incredulous face, or to watch Mika lightly shove him into the snow for it.

\--

How many times will he do this, he wonders.

How many times will he reach his house, only to pause just before entering, staring at the tent and dreading the inside?

The tent folds blow in the harsh Northern wind, as if wishing to pull him inside to his fate.

It's been a habit a little over a year now, a heavy feeling which sits in his stomach upon seeing the home. Not even Akiteru's welcome mat changes anything.

It's the coldest Tsukishima ever feels, even surrounded by ice and partly drenched in the freezing waters. His blood barely runs, chilling him to the bone, and he takes a deep breath, his pride telling him he can't afford to wait this long.

That it's ridiculous, even though it isn't.

When he enters, there's no one home, and he can breathe a sigh of relief. It should make him feel terrible, wishing his family would stay in town for however long they please, but he's over that guilt now. It would be one thing, if his father made him feel loved at the end of each day, but he doesn't.

He hasn't, for a very long time. Tsukishima knows deep down that as much as he dreads his father coming home, his father mourns it just as much.

He'll have to see Tsukishima's face, and be reminded he exists.

It's been getting worse, but Tsukishima doesn't believe in the edge of the world anymore. He has no way of knowing when things will go too far, tipping over the edge and into the darkness.

With that in mind, Tsukishima puts some tea on, curls up, and waits for the inevitable.

\--

His brother's voice startles him awake.

"Kei! Good, you're resting," his brother says, too loud for the late hour. The sky is starting to darken, and Tsukishima knows there will be no escape. He rubs his eyes, yawning as he tries to power through the layer of grogginess plaguing him. "I was worried you'd be out and about!"

_Of course you were._

Despite his anxiety, Tsukishima can't help but feel fond. Akiteru is already rifling through his trunk, a disorganized mess of blues, some new and some faded. He finds the box from Mika easily setting it on the table with more excitement than Tsukishima can muster.

And  _he's_  the one being crowned a master.

At the reminder, his stomach twists.

He traces the sound of the wind to where his father stands, leaning against the entry post, arms crossed. His face is stone, unchanging, and never taking his eyes off Tsukishima.

They don't need to exchange words. Tsukishima gets the feeling he's in trouble already, for what, he doesn't know.

He turns back to when Akiteru is untying the ribbons of his box, marveling at the outfit inside. "Whoa, Yamaka-san really outdid herself."

He holds the pieces up, hanging them on the far wall.

They are nice.

The dark pants match his boots perfectly, probably tailored to his height. The tunic is long, a brighter blue than he usually goes for, lined with a wavy pattern along the edges. The pattern dots the long sleeves, the frontal piece, and even the belt. The deep blue of the top half is lined with lighter stitching, to match the blue of the sky Tsukishima desperately tries to reach. Rounding it all out is the long coat which wraps around it, the hood lined with clean, white fur and fixed to the neckpiece with a simple, sparkling gold button.

It's regal in every sense of the word, even as it solely hangs there without a body. It's like nothing Tsukishima usually chooses to wear, but the day gets stranger and stranger.

Akiteru's smile, bright as the sun they seldom see, falters looking at it. Honestly, his brother is too much. Tsukishima already wants to tell him not to worry about it, but he knows it'll do them no good. His brother's shoulders sag, and he stares at the ground; it's guilt Tsukishima doesn't care for. "I'm really sorry I can't make it..."

Before Tsukishima can open his mouth, his father's commanding voice fills the room, as if addressing the public in wartime. Not his sons.

Tsukishima's heart stops.

"You need to focus on practicing, and this expedition tonight will help," their father says, stepping into the center of the room. Tsukishima tries not to cower. "Your brother will understand."

The ' _he better_ ' is only for Tsukishima to decipher.

And Akiteru, as always, is oblivious. "I guess so..."

Then, he perks up again, attention purely on Tsukishima. Again, why is everyone making such a big deal out of this? "Rock their worlds though alright!? And get a picture, for once?"

That smile is not something he can refuse, no matter how horrible he feels. He nods, his brother beams, and their father is as unsatisfied as usual.

The cycle repeats.

Tsukishima waits for the interludes, the dreaded time alone with both of them. It always comes. Akiteru runs out to buy some meat from the butcher's, calling for a celebratory stew, and Tsukishima doesn't move.

See, this is the problem. The bigger of a deal everyone else makes it, the more his father notices. The more he wants to put an end to it, in his own way.

Tsukishima barely breathes. As if then he won't be seen, won't be addressed.

He'd give anything to just be ignored.

But tonight is special indeed.

As soon as Akiteru is gone, his father spins on him, eyes holding a fire only Tsukishima ever gets to see. Hate fueled, and resentful. Tsukishima is frozen, like he always is in the face of it. His one weakness, the thing he could never move past. It's so pathetically pitiful.

His father takes no more than five steps before he's yanking Tsukishima to his feet, refusing to sink down to his level. Tsukishima lets himself be pulled.

This is all he's ever known. He doesn't know how to rebel, not with action. He can glare and vent all he wants, punch training bags, and scream in a blizzard, but they accomplish nothing.

It's better to not make a scene; in that case, it never has a chance of getting worse. Though, he doesn't know what's worse than this.

"Now, you listen here," his father says, voice low. Right, he can't let anyone hear him like this. He has to always be the amicable, respectful chief. If Tsukishima tried to show people otherwise, no one would believe him. But this is what he hears in his head at night, not empowering speeches or encouraging advice. Tsukishima stares into his father's eyes, and feels the void stare back. "I've spoken with the ceremony leaders. I've told them how  _uncomfortable_  you can get with crowds. It would've been easier to call you a coward, but you're still one of my sons."

Tsukishima tries not to let his anger show. Reserved yes, but a coward he is not. But he's also not arrogant, he never wanted to perform in front of the tribe, to claim his title. But the insinuation that he's not  _capable_  is more than he can take.

His father continues. "They won't ask you to perform tonight, and that's how I want it. Is that clear?"

Tsukishima doesn't say a word. He should be thankful, this is what he wanted. And yet...

Insolence churns in his gut.

"There will be no showing off, no more soaking up attention you already don't deserve," his father says, and Tsukishima expected this. His own prowess, his own skill...His father has never been able to control those things. It's Tsukishima's one escape. "The better you do, the worse your brother looks. He's going to be the chief, not  _you_. Understand?"

Yes. It's what he's always wanted. Why his life has any effect on Akiteru's, he doesn't know. His father has this terrible logic in his head, that somehow, any good thing Tsukishima does somehow undermines his brother's achievements.

It's revolting.

All Tsukishima ever wanted was to live for himself.

After a few seconds of no response, his father's nails dig into his arm, yanking down. Tsukishima winces, afraid his arm might actually be torn from him. His father is relentless. "Do we  _understand_?" 

And Tsukishima, with no other choice, chokes out his words. "Completely."

His father lets go with a scoff, pushing Tsukishima back onto the bed of furs, and leaves him there, business done.

Tsukishima refuses to move, his body still in survival mode, and the minutes drag on. The outfit hangs next to him, but the glamour is gone, replaced with a mocking he'll never be rid of.

He just wants the night to be over already.

As he looks in the direction of his father's room, a fleeting thought crosses his mind, insignificant.

He takes it back. Tsukishima doesn't hate Daishou. Hate is too strong a word, too powerful of a feeling, and it's one he's well acquainted with.

\--

"Hey Kei, Dad left so I wanted to make sure you--oh, wow."

Tsukishima jumps at his brother's voice, his tall frame standing in the doorway. Even then, Tsukishima knows he's taller. He surpassed his brother long ago even in that, a cruel joke of the universe. Maybe that's where their father's hatred started, with that small little inkling.

The feeling that Tsukishima would be one tall problem.

Tsukishima pouts as his brother beams at him, incessantly proud. Tsukishima is standing there in his ceremonial outfit, fidgeting with the coat clasp. The button is so nice, so delicate, he's afraid he'll snap it right off.

Akiteru chuckles, like they're kids again and Tsukishima has spilled all the spices in the kitchen in his attempt to reach a cookie. Back then, he cried, refused his brother's help, but now he expects it.

Tsukishima's hands fall to his side, his shoulders drooping as Akiteru closes the gap between them. The hands are gentle as they fix the coat hood gently to the neck of his tunic, the button snapping into place.

So close, Tsukishima can see the age in his brother's face. It's still youthful and kind, but wiser, the wrinkles already forming from too many nights pouring over policies. He'd almost forgotten; his father kidnaps Akiteru for training every chance he gets, of course there would be results.

He'll make a good chief, someone everyone can lean on. It warms Tsukishima's heart, despite everything. He lets his brother inspect him, fretting over lint and crooked sleeves. He'll lean on his brother for this, even though he's long since hidden other things from him.

The thought makes Tsukishima sigh. It's not that he meant to but...

Their father is Akiteru's hero. Every time Tsukishima went to open his mouth, to reveal the constant abuse...

He couldn't stand to break his brother's heart. Not then, not now.

It's alright. After tonight, he can exist solely in the background again. Akiteru doesn't have to know.

"Can I ask you something?" Akiteru says, smoothing over the shoulders of Tsukishima's coat. It catches him off guard but he nods, unsure of where to go from here. The ceremony is in thirty minutes, and it feels like the end of the world.

Akiteru smiles, sort of sad, and Tsukishima dreads the question. "Did I do something?"

The question hits Tsukishima in the chest like a shard of ice, shattering against his skin. He blinks, eyes wide, and finds that Akiteru is completely serious.

His brother's gaze is fixed on Tsukishima's shoes as he speaks. "It's just, you've been really distant lately. For a while now, actually. I thought it was just...you being you, but it's not, is it? I thought maybe I did something."

As if Akiteru could ever do something so drastic. It hurt Tsukishima to even think he'd led the older to assume so. But it's true. Talking to Akiteru had become too painful given his relationship with their father, and not being able to tell Akiteru anything about it.

He'd shut him out, but he still can't help but feel like he'd had no choice. Powerless under the chief's orders.

He and Akiteru were not close anymore, he'd have to accept that. They couldn't be, not when one of them adored a man wholly unworthy of it.

But, for whatever reason, Tsukishima can't bring himself to lie right now. Akiteru's eyes are too searching, too vibrant in the shadows.

Tsukishima really does feel small again, all done up in his best clothes.

With a trembling breath, he shakes his head. He feels like he's waited forever for this confession, yearned to scream it from the rooftops.

_I hate Dad_ , he thinks.  _Just say it._

Yet he's never been good at being direct, or bold in his speech. The words are so pathetic and tiny, like they're not real.

"It's not you," Tsukishima whispers, swallowing thickly before the words pour out. Slow, like molasses, but twice as bitter. "It's...it's Dad."

And it's as ridiculous as he thought it would be. It's not some grand revelation, or a relief. It just sounds like an ungrateful, spoiled son.

Akiteru flinches, hands falling from Tsukishima's shoulders in his shock. Those eyes are no longer concerned or worried, but purely shocked.

Any confidence Tsukishima had, dies in an instant.

"Dad...what?" Akiteru asks, and Tsukishima almost wants to tell him to shut up. He doesn't need salt in the wound. Why did he ever think this would turn out in his favor?

He can't even look at Akiteru right now.

"I don't..." Pathetically, he tries to formulate a response. To pack years worth of abuse, of evidence, into some concise statement.

_I hate Dad._

_Dad hates me._

It's that simple, but it's not, and again Tsukishima is left grasping at nothing. Now, more than anything, he wants to dive into the sea. That's where he's home, that's where none of this matters. It's something that can't be taken away.

Akiteru sighs, nodding along to the answer he's already made up in his head. Tsukishima lets him. "I think I understand. Dad's been real focused on me lately, but he loves you too! I'm sure once I'm chief in a few years, it'll die down."

Tsukishima says nothing.

Akiteru sinks down a little, peering at him at a weird angle. It makes his face look like a fish, and never fails to get a laugh out of Tsukishima. He fakes one even now, just to soothe Akiteru's nerves.

Deep down, he knows nothing will change, and he'll have to live with that.

"Hey, please cheer up? I know it's hard right now and Dad is stressed about a lot, but you're a master now! I'm jealous!" Akiteru says, lightly punching Tsukishima's shoulder. "It's all you've ever worked for! And you love waterbending..."

He does. Deep in his soul. That's enough, no matter how much his excellence makes their father fume. Maybe that's a bonus. If Tsukishima can start seeing things like that, he'll be better off.

With a light laugh, Akiteru is back to his normal self, and Tsukishima supposes he's right. If anything, he can at least enjoy the fact that the spirits of the ocean and moon are with him, supporting him as he trains with new strategies and techniques.

And as reserved and cynical as Tsukishima can be, he knows there's never a lack of things to learn.

Akiteru beams one last time as he gets ready to send Tsukishima off, the snow greeting him like they know he's a child of the water. "I know the ceremony isn't really your thing but, it'll be over in a flash! Make me proud!"

And unfortunately, part of Tsukishima's heart takes those words, and promises nothing less.

\--

The ceremony is outdoors, the stage elevated and surrounded by lanterns on all sides. It's tradition, a strange one, but one that dates back to the years when new masters were intended to demonstrate some of their skills.

The stage sits just above the ocean, wild and roaring. Tsukishima can feel the spritz on his clothed back, but the chill and darkness have never scared him. It makes him think about his brother's words, the truth he'd been trying all day to push somewhere else.

He loves waterbending. This is important to him, doesn't matter how hard he tries to deny it.

It sits in his throat, heavy, the need to shout. To be heard over the waves, because he's earned that.

The announcer's voice is barely audible over the ocean, but it's expected. It's a testament to the water's power, to the respect everyone is meant to pay it. Later, Tsukishima will have to take a private walk to the spirit oasis, and give his personal thanks to the spirits, though they no longer reside there.

The moon shines above, his namesake, glowing bright as if to also rejoice. Tsukishima all at once feels undeserving, but unbearably touched.

He never expected to be hit with this immense wave of emotion, this pride. He thought he wanted this ceremony to be over and done with, he never understood why it had to be such a big deal.

But maybe it's not for the crowd, or even him. It's the spirits, it's the water, welcoming in one of their own.

Tsukishima almost doesn't know how to handle it, this adoration and longing which burns through his chest, and he's thankful he's meant to have his head down right now.

He can't even guess what his face looks like, how misted over his eyes are.

He thinks of the rush of the water from the morning, the vortex around him, his feet sliding over tundra. He thinks that there's so much more he can do. He thinks he's barely scratched the icy surface.

"We have come together today to recognize not only a new master, but a new teacher. A new leader for the next generation," the announcer's voice booms, and from the corner of Tsukishima's eyes, he can see the aged, fond face. He's one of Tsukishima's many teachers throughout his life, along with the row of men and women behind him. Since preschool, since...forever; watching him grow. Tsukishima feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and definitely not part of the ceremony. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

"May the spirits follow him as he walks through life, may they inspire even in the darkest of times, when hope is lost. May they also sustain the light on the brightest days, and may this young soul never forget what he has done here."

He thinks of his father, and wonders if he's already surpassed the darkest times, if he's barely realizing that now. The moon seems to shine brighter above him.

Another pair of boots come under his vision, and Tsukishima lifts his head ever so slightly as one of his mentors paints a symbol onto his forehead. For good fortune, for the spirits.

"Should he not forget, neither will the sea. They will be there for him, giving respect where it is due. His skills leave no room for doubt in that. It has been an honor to help him reach this point."

Tsukishima wishes he could look up at him, but...he only really has one job during all this, and for their sake, not his father's or even his own, he'll do it right. His breathing trembles; he knows what comes next, he just never thought it would be so surreal.

The ocean roars behind him, striking the cliffside with fury, and Tsukishima can no longer hold back a smile, unrestrained.

The waters echo it, and the announcer's voice cries out with it, echoing across the ice flows.

"Spirit of the ocean, spirit of the moon! We present to you, Tsukishima Kei!"

He stands, and the roar of the crowd is way less daunting in comparison now. He raises his head for all to see, and isn't afraid. The nerves, long since ingrained in his shoulders, seep out. He's less thankful for being able to see the crowd, and more so for being able to look upon the spreading land. The snowy mountains and city lights beyond...

They remind him of his place, and nothing can compare. The paint on his forehead drips a little, powerless as the mist of the snow hits his face, and it's everything.

Amusingly, he can see Mika cheering from the first row, along with a less than excited Daishou. Tsukishima is sure Shirabu is off in the shadows somewhere, clapping daintily like he does. It's enough for Tsukishima.

As the cheers continue, Tsukishima turns around to bow to the row of teachers behind him, and then to his old mentor.

Tsukishima has never seen such a proud look directed at him before, not one he thought he deserved.

"Thank you master," he whispers, right when the ocean pulls back. He knows it so well, he knows when to let it have its turn. His master smiles brighter, like he gets it.

"Of course,  _master_ ," the old man says before clapping Tsukishima on the back. He stumbles a bit, grounding himself in the snow, and his mentor's voice addresses the crowd again. Loud, impossible to not hear. "Now, lets see some fine waterbending!"

Tsukishima's heart stops.

His eyes flash with fear, so pathetic and childish, and he looks to his mentor. It's his first instinct; he hadn't planned for this. He doesn't know what to do.

He should refuse, but...

His mentor's grip tightens, but it's encouraging. "I know your father said you would be nervous, but we all know you can do this." The old man looks to the other teachers, and they all nod in excitement, in support.

Tsukishima can't really bear to let them down.

But...

_No showing off._

His father had meant that, and even now, it fills Tsukishima's body with unrivaled anger. His heart starts up again, faster, his pulse racing. The ocean beats so hard this time, the splashes soak his shoes.

He should play it safe. Do something simple. But doesn't want to.

He should refuse, but he doesn't  _want_  to.

His fists curl at his sides, already itching to strike, to  _bend_. And he can't refuse that, not ever. Tsukishima loves it too much, and anyone who thinks they can get in the way of that...

They're a fool.

Tsukishima's feet move. In the distance, he can see the edge of a large cliff, right in his sights. Like destiny. Pure, hard rock. And Tsukishima knows what to do. His mentor steps back, he sees it too, and whispers. "The water has always been yours to move with."

Not command, never command.

Tsukishima has always known that. His eyes narrow, and he takes a deep breath, his arms rising elegantly at his sides. He thinks he imagines a hush over the crowd, but he can't be sure. All he hears is the whirl of snow, the wind in his ear. He envisions the rock crashing into the water, and moves.

Slowly, taking his time, his arms stretch out in front of him, and from then on there's no stopping. They move in sync to his left side before breaking off, one lifting over and behind his head while the other drifts down and then back in front. Constant rotations, so simple, and unexpected.

He can imagine the mumbles, the confused looks.

Surely, he could've gone with something more showy all around, the water vortex, for example. But showy in that sense isn't really his style. He doesn't need to the look of power to harness it, and as his arms begin to move in a steady rhythm, he keeps his eyes closed.

When he hears the gasps, he knows.

The water begins to surge around him, gargantuan ropes of spinning sea, the foam still visible. They don't touch him, but the mist hits his clothes as the rings envelop him, forming a spinning axis in both directions.

He puts his entire body into the movements now, his arms pushing and pulling the weight of water capable of crushing metal. It's invigorating, it's what he always feels in his heart.

He waits until he knows there's no room on the stage, until he hears boots scurry off to give him more room. The water rushes in his ears, deafening, and his eyes finally snap open.

He sees the rock, he doesn't think anymore.

He pulls one arm back, as if to build momentum to strike. He stops breathing.

The arm shoots out, ending the dance, and the entire accumulation of water follows it. Give and take. It shoots out, like a lightning bolt, a spinning shard, and hits the black stone.

There's but a moment of silence, barely a second, and half of the large cliffside is falling into the water with a dazzling shriek, the crumbling of stone which has been unmovable for generations.

It hits the ocean, and the splash flies into the air, and something about it tugs at Tsukishima's heart more than he can say. More than he understands.

The sound is earsplitting, but he takes it in completely, following through on his actions. Then, and only then, the ocean consumes it, as if the rock had never been there at all.

Returning things to a steady beat.

Tsukishima exhales, and lets the feeling sink in. Only after the weight of his victory really sinks in does he look at the crowd, more from instinct than from actual expectation.

If anything, now he feels a little insecure. Not because of what he did, but for taking up the spotlight for so long. It's not his way, and yet...

He'd followed the ocean's cues.

He looks to the people around him, even his mentors as they stare with slack jaws. There's another crash of the waves behind him, and they erupt in cheers.

Tsukishima's lungs take in too much air after that.

He coughs as his mentor crashes into him, screaming something Tsukishima really can't process as he raises his arm up. Tsukishima lets it happen, as unnecessary as it is. All the smiling faces are a bit too much, even Daishou, with his frown and begrudging attendance, gives a halfhearted clap.

The sea claps too, as always, but he swears it's a bit louder now. As undeserving as he often feels, he's done the spirits proud, and that's all he ever needs at the end of the day.

Even when he's hopeless, even when he wonders if anything is watching over him.

There's water in his eyes that he can blame on his demonstration, but he blinks rapidly, willing it away. He always knows the truth.

But all at once, it comes crashing, like the rock to its new depths.

Tsukishima looks out at the mass of smiles and cheers, and spots one face in the back. One murderous, enraged face, with sights set right on him.

Tsukishima's life stops, the sounds around him tunneling, going around him. He can't focus on any one thing but that disapproving stare, and something inside him tells him to run.

It's ridiculous. He's faced worse, he knows it'll be over after a few days, the angry whirlwind.

But...why does that not feel convincing this time?

Why does it feel like something broke?

Tsukishima can get anxious, he can get paranoid, but he's always moved within the limits of reason. Reason tells him that nothing will change, that he'll get through this.

But as his father shakes his head, part of Tsukishima can already feel the beginning of something, and he doesn't want to know more. He doesn't want to learn about this road.

His father turns away with a grimace, leaving Tsukishima standing there in a field of praise, wishing he could turn back time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand it's a two parter LOL it wasn't supposed to be but obviously there's lot to explore here, don't hurt me *runs*
> 
> In the meantime, check out some [art](https://imgur.com/R7t45qL) I got commissioned for this chapter by [Aegisdea](https://twitter.com/Aegisdea)! Ugh...I still can't get over how good Tsukki looks LOL
> 
> Thanks so much for reading~ 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	12. drown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooof I managed to update sooner than I thought lol and I hope you all enjoy another long chapter! This backstory kinda got away from me but I'm sure you guys don't mind getting these answers so hopefully it's ok! We'll get back to the kurotsuki/mystery next time ;) 
> 
> Thanks so much [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

It's the middle of the night when he makes it back to his house, and his boots crunch in the fresh snow.

It's falling more freely now, and his mentors had warned him of the impending blizzard. He couldn't stay out even if he wanted to.

Tsukishima shivers. The festivities which followed the ceremony flew past him in a daze, as did his trip to the spirit oasis. The food and wine sit heavy in his stomach, even with the scraps he did manage to force down. He milked it and milked it, all while wishing for them to be over.

All night. Every second.

There's something inside him which tells him to run, and the logic in his head tells him it'll do no good. What is it? What's wrong that hasn't been wrong before?

Tsukishima shakes his head, searching. He'd meditated at the oasis, he'd honored the spirits...but he didn't really know what to say, what to ask for, like some people foolishly did.

He just waited for a sign, an inkling of reassurance that things would be alright.

He hadn't gotten anything; just the rush of wind, a beat of silence.

Kind of like what he's getting now.

The entrance to his house is as quiet and menacing as usual, but with a weird peace to it. He wishes he could've sought comfort in this place; it looks like an embodiment of all he's ever held dear. The roof slopes like a hill, topped with tough, strong roofing stained with paint. The patterns and carvings of waves and moons on the trim make Tsukishima immediately nostalgic. He remembers running his hands over them as a child only to pull back with a few splinters marring his unblemished fingertips.

The tent flaps are layered with fur, taking more than a gentle shove to pry apart. It's work to get inside, but it's never comparable to braving a storm to end up back in the sanctuary. The symbol of their tribe is painted right in the center, and at the top of the home itself, right where the side beams touch.

Bright, royal blue, not battered by harsh snow.

Right now, Akiteru's welcome mat is covered; the mud and the slosh obscure the happy words, but it's a part of the home regardless. Ceremonial drums and fortune totems hang off the door frame, ringing in the wind like chimes.

The wind blows them towards Tsukishima, the gust hitting his face and making him stumble. He knows it's normal, knows it's only more of a warning for the blizzard's impending presence, but...

He turns in the direction of the landscape anyways, like something is begging him to. All he sees is snow, the vast plains of the North covered with ice.

To him the land is ageless. The piles of snow are like waves of a frozen ocean; to him they still move, they're still alive, and it's the frontier he calls him. It's been his only home.

And in that moment, something compels him to rush at it.

With the speed and ridiculousness of a child, the wind runs under his feet like he's weightless; he's running forward, just to the plain ahead of his house, and dives into the snow. His footsteps leave marks which will surely be covered by the time he looks again, and it’s that thought alone which always made the solitude of this place more comforting than frightening.

He's a kid again, with his brother, playing with the snow and bending it in whatever rudimentary way he knew how. Snowmen, huts, faces...

He buries himself in it, stretches out and moves until he's sure it looks as if he has mangled wings.

Tsukishima breathes in the cool air, the biting chill. The snow continues to fall on him, like he's barely a blip, unimportant to the natural world. The snow is fresh so it embraces him fully, swallowing him up with icy crystals which stick to his hair and coat. If he could stay like this, he would.

And it's that realization that makes his chest feel unbearably tight.

He  _would_ stay; it implies that soon he won't be able to.

It makes him choke out a breath, not a sob, but as close as he can probably manage. His lungs are expanding like he's in a panic, not lying boneless in the snow, and it's terrifying. An encroaching threat...

Tsukishima paws at the snow as if to beg it to trap him here, to keep anything from pulling him away.

Why?  _Why_  does he feel like this?

He presses his face into the ground, like it'll offer answers of some kind. He rubs his face in the powder, in the land; one last goodbye.

The tent flap of his home gives a weak sound then, but it's the first audible one. Tsukishima's head perks up, staring at the bear skin as it sways. There's a sliver of darkness behind it, no lights on in the house, but he knows it's not empty.

If it's his cue to end this goodbye, if it indeed is that, he wishes he had the courage to defy it.

But he can't stay out here, he can't avoid the house forever. He's trapped in the logic of things, in the same routine he's known all his life; a routine he never expected to feel so caged by.

With trembling movements, he manages to rise to his feet. The snow sinks under his weight, like a last squeeze of an invisible force.

'Good luck,' it says, but Tsukishima wishes more than anything to escape this permanence. This promise of change which he still can't quite wrap his head around. Whatever is about to happen...

It starts in the only place on this landscape which he despises.

When he pulls back the thick animal skins, his father is waiting for him.

"What were you thinking?" That grave, barely contained voice says as soon as Tsukishima enters the house. It's somehow louder than the raging winds behind the house, like it cuts off the blizzard, stops it in its tracks. The events of their home are contained, and it's as Tsukishima feared.

He blinks, not quite sure what to make of this. His father has never given him this much attention, this much  _recognition_. For this sickeningly prideful man to actually sit and  _wait_  for Tsukishima...

It makes his heart harden.

Nothing about the day makes any sense.

His father's arms, crossed at his sides, notably clench. He's barely holding himself back. That strong jaw is set like he's trying to crush stone with his teeth, and those golden eyes, ones Tsukishima hates to share, might as well be red.

Tsukishima doesn't move.

"I..." He hates how he sounds like a little kid. A child, powerless. But he doesn't look that way, does he? Dressed in his ceremonial clothes, the snow dotting his shoulders and fringe; he's tall, he's always been tall, but today he looms in his excellence. If he didn't look like a master, his father wouldn't be this watchful, this scornful of him.

It makes Tsukishima stand up straighter, raising his chin; his father is beneath him, this is all beneath him.

The action, before the words, already make his father stiffen with anger.

"I didn't do  _anything_ ," Tsukishima snarls, and his father is up, charging towards him.

Tsukishima thinks he has the control to resist defending himself, to resist making impulsive decisions. After all, this is nothing new. It'll be over soon, it'll--

His father's nails dig into his arm, and Tsukishima bites back a growl of pain. He opens his mouth to curse at his father, to bite or yell or say  _something_ , but the truth barrels out.

"You knew  _exactly_  what you were doing, you  _brat_ ," the man whispers, giving Tsukishima a powerful shove until he's practically on the other side of the room. His father can't even bear his presence long enough to properly threaten him. Tsukishima is sick of it. "I'll be damned if I let you cheat your brother out of the succession! He's twice the chief you'll ever be, you'd ruin the North!"

The rage boiling in Tsukishima veins receives a shot of sense, his ears processing the words. His mouth reacts before his brain.

And politeness be damned.

"What...what are you on? I don't want to be  _chief_." Is his father serious? He knew his father was delusional, that he hated when Tsukishima apparently made his brother look bad, but conspiring to steal his title?

Tsukishima would never want it. He never had.

His stare of absolute disbelief isn't enough for his father though, it's barely even registered. The man scowls, and Tsukishima can feel the welt on his arm. A phantom grip.

"You must find it so rewarding to be this conniving, but you're not nearly as smart or talented as you think," his father says. That voice is calm, mocking, but those broad shoulders quake enough to rival storms. "I see  _right_  through you. You think you can sway public opinion, make me and your brother seem weak. You think the people will side with you because you make them believe you're a better waterbender--"

"I  _am_  a better waterbender!" Tsukishima says with a laugh before his expression dissolves. It's...it's really the first time he's ever proudly admitted that aloud. He never lets himself think he's the best at anything, never lets himself get too confident. It's the road to heartache in most cases, but with this, with water...

It's all he has. Tsukishima scoffs, shaking his head from the emotions and frustration all coming to the surface. "But that doesn't mean I want your title. I'd rather be maimed by polar bear dogs."

And it's true. The only thing he regrets...

Akiteru's genuine smile flashes in his face, so oblivious but well meaning. He loves Father so much. Tsukishima can only hope his brother doesn't feel the same way about him, that he thinks the very best of Tsukishima, whatever that might be.

He doesn't want to be seen as an usurper. He wants what's best for his brother, but maybe that goal has hurt him all along. His silence, his endurance of everything their father is...

All to preserve his brother's blissful ignorance.

Tsukishima is done with it.

"That can be arranged," his father snarls, but he doesn't move. He doesn't make an attempt to intimidate or assault Tsukishima again. It's like he's waiting, like it's not the time. For some reason, it makes a chill climb through Tsukishima's body. His father's posture is that of a statue, his tone dark and unwavering. A promise. "I'm sick of you stepping out of line, you're just in the way."

_Always in the way._

It sounds more like a realization than an insult, and Tsukishima shakes his head, willing to be free of it. He's done here, doesn't matter what kind of storm awaits him outside. With a tired, rueful sigh, Tsukishima shrugs.

"Want me to leave? No problem." He turns his back on his father, and it's like slow motion. There's something very final about the action, but also something very dangerous. He detects that murderous gaze on his back, recognizes the vulnerability of his position. Tsukishima has never felt it before, this strange panic over self-preservation.

The omens from before shake him, the feeling of lying out in the snow. The goodbye.

After that, his feet can't carry him fast enough.

But the universe isn't done with him; not even a hundred feet from the entrance of their home, he barrels right into Akiteru, on his way back from town. Tsukishima can tell from his shock alone that he heard nothing.

And how could he? Over the roar of the sky. It makes Tsukishima feel even worse.

He can't bear to see the happiness and shock on his brother's face, Tsukishima keeps on walking, more like jogging. He wants to get away, farther and farther. He'll apologize later.

It's all too much, too dreadful. Something's coming.

As he passes his brother with urgency, a hand on his arm stops him, right in the spot his father grabbed. Tsukishima winces, and yanks his arm away.

The hurt on Akiteru's face isn't something he has the energy to feel guilty about. Anger doesn't begin to cover what he feels.

"Kei? Hey, what's wrong?" His brother asks, hardly audible over the winds. His hands try to touch Kei's shoulders, but he denies him that too.

Like he denied everything before, but now...

"I hate him!" Kei bites, cutting off his brother's attempts to console him. Akiteru blinks. "I hate everything about him! I don't care what he does, I don't...I don't care who the chief is but I..."

_I can't be in that house anymore._

And despite his anger, his bitterness, his irrationality in that moment...Tsukishima expects his brother's sympathy.

He's never been without it. From broken legs as kids, to ruined toys or lost books...Akiteru has always been there for him. Even if he doesn't understand, he'll feel some sort of pity, some sort of empathy...

Tsukishima really isn't in his right mind though, doesn't understand how the situation seems. Right now, he's the one not making sense, he's the one to question.

To doubt.

"Wha--Kei, please, come back inside!" Akiteru tries, gesturing to their home. There's something there, something from their earlier talk, but not enough. Akiteru's shoulders slump, and Tsukishima regrets waiting for his words, for thinking they might be something he doesn't expect. "Look I...I know Dad has high expectations, but he's hard on us because he loves us. He cares--"

He doesn't  _get_  it. And that's no one's fault but Tsukishima's.

"No Akiteru, he cares about  _you._  He's only ever cared about you! How could you not--" Tsukishima stops himself, closing his eyes with a deep breath. This anger is useless, too dramatic for him. He hates it.

How could Akiteru not, he'd asked.

Because he'd never told him. Tsukishima, through all his years of torment under that sharp gaze of their father, never said a word.

Shaking his head, Tsukishima takes one hesitant step back; when Akiteru moves forward with him, he bolts.

"Kei wait! There's a storm tonight!"

But Tsukishima doesn't care, and Akiteru stops following him. He wonders why that hurts in the moment.

Yet, Tsukishima runs and glides, moving on waves of ice as fast as his feet can manage, and only stops when the echo of his brother's voice is truly gone.

Then, he keeps going.

\--

Tsukishima ends up in the remains of old forests, ones made up of foolishly planted, adult trees which have since turned gnarled and crippled at the branches. Many see it as an eyesore on the untainted landscape, but Tsukishima thinks it's kind of nice.

No wonder no one he'd passed had tried to stop him, though he did get some strange looks. The atmosphere is nice though, isolated.

A reminder that eventually, everything becomes consumed by the frost and the wind.

Visibility is nearly diminished.

Tsukishima can barely see a few feet in front of him, and he comes a little too close to some of the tree trunks as he wanders.

He's not used to this, this... _continuing_  to move with no real purpose. Why is he out here?

There's no point, nothing for him. He keeps thinking of his brother's face, his father's piss poor threats.

He'd overreacted, and now he's out in the middle of a blizzard with no one in sight.

If he died out here, or got lost...

No one would have any chance of finding him.

It's not like him at all, but despite this, he's not worried. This is the calmest he's felt all day, feeling his feet sink into the dangerously heavy mounds of snow on the floor. Soon, he'll be able to swim in it. He gratefully plops against a boulder at the base of a tree, where he won't be buried too fast. He'll find his way back, he can feel it, but he needs the time to think.

The wind and weather are things he respects, not something he fears, or chooses to fight against. The trees are almost more menacing than the blizzard, the large trunks providing hiding places and blind spots of darkness.

It's why he doesn't mind as the storm picks up, violently sending loose branches to the ground with sickening cracks. The snow on his shoulders builds, and he ties his hood around his ears to keep the bite away.

Yeah, he doesn't know why he's here, but he knows it's by far the best place to be.

Anywhere without his father is, anywhere without the reminder of Tsukishima's own stupidity.

Maybe when he goes back, when he finally has the courage to, he'll be able to tell Akiteru everything.

_Everything_.

No matter how much it hurts him, it's better than this existence. And anyways, what can his father really do?

It's never been a question he's asked himself, but thinking about it now, resolution might be worth enduring the confrontation. Right now, Tsukishima is stuck, suspended in time, and if he stays like this...he wonders if it'll take something catastrophic to get him out of it.

He doesn't want it to get that far, he won't.

He's an adult, but more than that, he's a master now. He should be much better than this, hiding away in a blizzard.

Looking up, the snow flurries make him squint. The horizon is barely distinguishable, none of the city lights visible through the snowy haze. Akiteru is probably worried sick.

With that in mind, Tsukishima clicks his tongue, lightly hitting the back of his head against the tree.

Progress is scary, and not at all something he's used to initiating. But in this case, he must, and he can't do it standing out here.

Any sound he makes is swallowed by the roar of the wind, and Tsukishima steadies himself as he rises, his hand settling on a wet, rough trunk. It's so fragile, just his grip wears away some of it, breaking off and nearly sending him back to the ground.

The sound is so sudden, it startles him. It shouldn't have been so audible, so amplified, and it makes Tsukishima freeze.

The moment replays in his head as he stands straighter, stiffer, and realizes the sound had not been singular. He wouldn't have heard it otherwise.

Another twig snaps, and some greater power must bless him with the ability to catch it. It’s deadly, accidental, and his suspicion is proven correct.

Tsukishima gasps as he looks across the stretch of open space between him and the next cluster of trees. There's a dark mass there, a figure, horribly obscured by the snow.

Despite the shock, Tsukishima calms down.

It's definitely a person, and he sighs to himself. He shouldn't be surprised his brother would come after him after getting his bearings, he'd be too worried to wait for Tsukishima to come home.

It adds another block of guilt onto Tsukishima's shoulders, he could've easily gotten them both killed out here. Tsukishima has to squint to even make out his brother's outline, broader, probably due to a heavy coat.

Tsukishima's shoulders slump as he approaches, hand raising to shield his eyes in front of his face from the biting chill. The flurries spin around the figure in front of him, and Tsukishima uses it as a guideline.

He underestimated the elements after all. His steps are embarrassingly cautious, sliding against the ground.

"I was coming home you know," he sighs, unable to completely give up some of his pride. It's true anyways, his brother tends to overreact.

It's only after he speaks that he realizes something is wrong.

The figure in front of him doesn't move, doesn't do much of anything.

There's not response at all, no fretting or rushing forward. That's what his brother would do, slip and slide over snow until he had his hands on Tsukishima's shoulders, throwing an extra coat on over him. There's no teasing laugh or good-natured taunt.

Something in Tsukishima's gut clenches, panics, but maybe he's always been a little naive. A little hopeful, despite everything. His muscles tense up before he even understands, and the cry of the wind stops, like the tundra is holding its breath.

Tsukishima knows why that happens; he's seen a wild polar bear dog hunt a seal, he's heard the quiet before the deadly strike.

His voice trembles like a child's, his feet stalling just a few feet short of the figure. "Akiteru?"

The silence stretches on for half a second; time starts.

The figure's arms jolt back in a single, fluid motion, bringing a large burst of water forward. Like a snake it coils, building up striking power until it's enough to maim.

It's a direct hit to Tsukishima's face, icy and harsh enough to paint his pale skin a burning red.

There's no time for him to deflect it; it hits, violent enough to send him flying back. His back lands on a tree trunk, and he cries out from the pain. Even above the winds, it's audible. A sickening crash.

He trembles, a yelp escaping his mouth again as he flexes the muscles. There's no doubt a hefty bruise forming on his lower back now, and the tree trunk withers, topping behind him. If the angle had been any different...

Tsukishima's instincts kick in, and he thanks everything for his training. Another thin strike of water flies out towards him, and he rolls out of the way, watching as it slices the remains of the tree in half.

Tsukishima doesn't have to be confused anymore, or naive.

He knows exactly who it is, he just never thought it possible.

Yet, Tsukishima doesn't move. He's perfectly poised to counter attack, he knows he could.

He knows his own skills.

But...

"You know it's not as simple as you having a tantrum and running off!" His father screams at him, and the roughness of his voice is only amplified by the whistling of the blizzard.

Tsukishima barely has time to process those words, or whether or not this whole situation is a dream. His father sends another burst of water at him, one Tsukishima stops with ease. His father backs up, waiting for the counter attack, but Tsukishima is defiant in his own way. He sends the water to the ground, thunderous.

He hates how disappointed his father looks, but Tsukishima hates to give him a reason.

This isn't his fault.

"Your presence here,  _everywhere_ , is nothing more than a nuisance." Again, his father's voice sounds distant, addressing no one but himself. A revelation, a terrifying one, and Tsukishima glares.

"I...I already told you I don't want your stupid title! Why are you here?" Tsukishima questions breathlessly, and he means it. What's the point of this? His father has never lashed out this extremely, doesn't he know what he's risking? What about Akiteru? "Are you  _insane_?"

He is answered by an icy shard rising from the earth, and Tsukishima dodges it gracefully, shattering it with his own blow.

He cases his own hand in ice like a gauntlet, punching forward, and his fist connects smoothly; the ice breaks like glass.

He won't lose, if nothing else, he won't  _lose_.

"You're still a factor, whether you like it or not," his father pants, outmatched, no matter how angry he is. "Your brother might not be tough enough to understand that yet, but he will be, and I won't have  _you_  getting in the way of that destiny." 

Tsukishima's chest heaves as the words settle; he knows a threat when he hears one, but it can't be what he thinks, it  _can't_.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, his final attempt to bridge the gap, to talk some sense into the man who's been terrorizing him for years.

He should know it's no use.

His father's eyes darken.

"Such a talented waterbender, they all say," the man says, like a final farewell. "It's a shame you got lost in the blizzard."

Tsukishima stops hesitating. His eyes flash, and he pulls back, the snow beneath his feet lifting into a sharp stream of water. He doesn't see his father move, but in the moment, he doesn't much care.

He can win.

The coil around him brings the one from the ceremony to shame, it rushes, freezing at the tips like spears. He brings his arms in, ready to strike.

It's as natural as breathing, every movement flowing and changing with ease. Without this...he doesn't know what he'd do without this.

Before he can strike, it's robbed from him.

His arms extend, the wind stops again, waiting for the animal to sink its teeth in. As quickly as it starts, it stops in its tracks.

Tsukishima feels his blood run cold; his muscles seize violently, unnaturally, like a puppet. The water around him falls, sloshing to the floor in a snowy mess. The ground shakes, and so does he, everything in his body twisting and fighting back against the clenching of his veins.

Every muscle, his bones...

It's like they're not his own anymore.

His arms stiffen, bent awkwardly at his sides, and the veins in his arms and neck throb from the pressure. He clenches his teething, groaning, and his brain runs a mile a minute.

No....there's no way...he--

"Y-you..." Tsukishima chokes out, but breathing is so hard, his legs twitch, overcome with the need to buckle underneath him. It's like he's being bent himself, and he _knows_ deep down.

He knows what it is.

It's a horrible feeling, it's more than that. It's illegal. All free will and agency have been stripped from him, his bending...

Out of all the things Tsukishima has ever been okay with losing, this is last on the list. He's nothing without his bending, his ability to take things into his own hands. He's never been good at progressing before, but now he can't even move a step forward. The decision has been made for him.

He squirms, frantic, and can only hope.

Hope for freedom, for the chance to break free. But what kind of threat is he now?

_Still a masterful one._

His father's heavy boots crunch the snow, and Tsukishima hears his mentor's words in his head for what might be the last time.

But if he doesn't take the risk, he'll never know.

_"The water has always been yours to move with."_

It whatever form it may come in. Waterbenders do what they must to survive...

"I'm done with you," his father says as he approaches, and there's no shock there. The fear burning in Tsukishima's eyes is absent, as is any inkling of remorse. His father's hand curls, pulling at Tsukishima's limbs tighter. _Can't breathe_. "And I mean what I say."

Tsukishima can bend water, no matter where it is.

No matter how much he might hate it.

He knows the moon shines somewhere overhead; he can't see it, but he can feel it always. Just like he can hear the beating waves in his dreams, or the crash of water on the shore. The capability, the power, it all surges in his veins as he looks up at his father.

He doesn't know how things will turn out, what he and his father will do about this tomorrow. If Tsukishima will even survive.

But he won't die a prisoner; he'll fight until his last breath.

Tsukishima feels his heart stop as his father's hand curls into a fist, his life hanging off the edge.

Tsukishima cries out as he feels the blood surge in his own veins; he can feel his fathers too, like how he can sense a river.

He imagines what it would be like to bend it, to bend the muscles. That, combined with the rage he feels, years and years of pent up feelings...

He doesn't know what he's doing, but he acts.

And that sends his fate on a new path entirely.

Tsukishima breaks free of the hold in less than a second, holding his father's life force in his hands. All he hears is his father's breath hitch, a groan caught in his throat.

Tsukishima only means to get him off, to get him away.

But as soon as he sees his father's eyes, he knows it's gone too far. He's messed up.

Tsukishima freezes, holding his pose. It looks like he's cowering, bent towards the floor, but in his father's eyes...

There's a realization Tsukishima would give anything to take back. The man's eyes are wide, bulbous, like they're about to pop out of his skull. Pure, unadulterated panic.

His father's limbs tremble, his veins being drained dry and Tsukishima doesn't know what he did. He doesn't know how bloodbending  _works_ , much less how to stop. He wants it to stop so bad.

Tsukishima has the power, and it terrifies him for once. He hates this.

That fear makes him flinch, so fucking stupid. He  _flinches_ , and his hand jolts on accident, and he feels something inside his father burst.

The beat of an organ, sturdy and strong,  _red_ , stops forever.

The world goes quiet, and his father plops into the snow like a sack as Tsukishima's hands fall, the puppet strings cut.

The body barely makes a noise as it hits the snow; the movement is almost graceful, and nature is hardly disturbed by it. For this land, this is the way things are.

But for Tsukishima, it's the end of days. It's over so fast, Tsukishima can't comprehend it happened at all. He keeps staring at the body, waiting for it to move. He waits for his father to snap out of it, to get up and yell at him or say this was all some elaborate test.

He doesn't.

Tsukishima waits and waits but nothing happens.

The wind returns, obscuring his vision, and in less than five minutes, the snow is already working to bury his father. Like he's simply a part of the earth.

Tsukishima trembles and expels a breath, his limbs free of the hold he'd been so desperate to be out of.

He's alive, but at what cost?

After all that stubbornness, his knees finally buckle. Tsukishima sinks to the ground, just staring.

One question runs through his head as he shivers, the cold unbearable in this moment.

_What did I do?_

_What did I do?_

_What did I do?_

He...he didn't mean to.  _I didn't mean to._

Tsukishima whimpers; he's going to be sick. He can feel the bile rise up in his throat, can taste it.

_Fuck. What did I do?!_

Tsukishima's hands dig into the snow without gloves; he deserves the burn of it.

"Dad?" He calls uselessly, inching cautiously towards the body. "Dad..."

He pokes the body with his hand, the same one which dealt the final blow. His father just stays there, sunk like a stone, and Tsukishima swallows.

_No_.

It's not true, he...he didn't...

"I didn't mean to," he whispers, face a ghostly white. The adrenaline dies down, and he's empty again. Not even the landscape is a comfort.

As soon as he feels like he can't breathe, he's breathing too much.

He hasn't felt this sense of earth shattering panic since he was a teenager, but it weighs heavy on his chest. He's panting, his heartbeat going so fast he fears it might burst. The reminder of that possibility...it makes things worse.

He's shaking, he can't calm down. He fears he might crawl right out of his skin and die right alongside his father, buried in snow.

That's a better outcome than what's to come.

He...

Tsukishima steadies himself; he can't admit it. He can't say it even to himself. It's like a big blank, he...he did it. He...

Tsukishima comes up short too many times, and he hits the snow beneath him, the anger poorly directed. No outlet.

There were no witnesses. He'll be blamed, his brother will know. Akiteru will be downright devastated, and Tsukishima...

Who knows what the council will do with him.

In an instant, a mere flinch destroyed his entire future, and he doesn't know where to begin. Is there even a point in getting up? In going back home?

He should just stay here; he should enjoy the last bit of freedom he has, and perish on the land he loves.

A single tear drips from his eye, falling and disappearing into the snow, cleansed. He wishes it were that easy.

Tsukishima has always been logical, a realist. Yet now, even he knows there's nothing good waiting for him.

A twig snaps.

Tsukishima's head lurches towards the sound, and he gasps at the sight of boots so close to him. Well, he hadn't been paying attention.

Any protective or paranoid instincts he might've had are gone. Numb, he looks up to find Daishou standing there, face unreadable.

Grim, but...not disgusted.

It's not how Daishou usually looks at him; it's not the way Daishou looks  _ever_.

There's something else in his eyes too, but it's so foreign and vulnerable, Tsukishima can't process it in the moment.

The need to defend himself flares up; though, given his position, it looks pretty incriminating. Daishou has every right to think he's a... _killer_.

Tsukishima's throat closes up as he looks back at the body.

"I didn't..." He tries, but it's the best he can manage. His mind is a war zone, messy and convoluted. Stained with thoughts of blood.

Tsukishima shakes his head as he listens to the wind around him. Daishou doesn't move, doesn't run off to alert authorities, doesn't try to defend himself.

Tsukishima has no hope of understanding, and honestly...

Tsukishima can't find the will to care what Daishou does. The man could kill him where he stands; Tsukishima's legs feel too much like lead.

He just looks at his father's body, and sees his own life. What a mess. How appropriate, for Daishou to see him like this. Defeated, like he always wanted.

He waits for the judgement which is sure to come; this is Daishou after all. When has he ever not had an opinion?

And...who cares anymore?

"I saw."

For whatever reason, the response is clear as day.

Tsukishima looks back at Daishou's face, that same, unusual expression peering into his soul. Same serious, surly Daishou, but...

The taunts are gone, the high blush. There's just...sadness, sadness so deep, Tsukishima would think it was Daishou who'd just killed someone.

The echo of it hits Tsukishima harder than his father's blows, and he can vaguely feel the swelling on his back from where he hit the tree.

Tsukishima doesn't say anything, but apparently Daishou doesn't need him to. "I saw you run off, Mika made me follow you."

As if Tsukishima needs the explanation.

Tsukishima must look as lost as his thoughts, his expression screaming one question:  _why should I care?_

_Why should I care about anything?_

He wants to yell it at Daishou, but he can't. Why is he looking at him like this? Like he wants to hide Tsukishima away where nothing can hurt him.

Daishou never looks like that, but now...

"We have to move his body farther out, so people don't find him," Daishou says, moving along as he always does. It's one thing he and Tsukishima have in common; they do their best not to dwell, but it somehow ends up happening anyways. Tsukishima watches him as he steps towards the body of his father; Tsukishima doesn't get it. He blinks up at Daishou softly, unsure of what to do; how to react.

It makes Daishou snarl, and he barks at Tsukishima with a much more familiar emotion: rage. "Tsukishima! C'mon, we--"

"We?" Tsukishima whispers. It's his first and last word of the night. It's so small and scared, it shouldn't belong to him, but it makes Daishou startle. The other waterbender stares back, hands just inches away from touching the body.

Tsukishima doesn't know why, but his eyes plead with Daishou for an answer. Because that's the thing, Daishou has a choice. Daishou doesn't have to be here, he could've left, he could've just walked the other way.

He has a  _chance_ , and a life. Associating with Tsukishima now...it will ruin those chances forever.

Tsukishima knows he has to understand that, and his expression trembles as Daishou looks back, reading Tsukishima's  _everything_.

_This isn't your problem._

_You can leave._

Daishou can still be free.

And as Daishou stares back, his expression turns grave; he knows that. He understands. Tsukishima doesn't have to say it, and yet...

Daishou breathes in, and Tsukishima waits for him to walk away. But he doesn't.

He doesn't.

"Yeah, we," he whispers, and then there's no going back. Daishou's hands are lifting the body onto his back, hoisting it up. Tsukishima can't even look at his father's face, his open eyes. He can't do much of anything but follow, and as wrong as everything in his life feels then, that decision is the only thing he thinks is right. Daishou looks back at him, the wind filling their silence, and their pact is sealed. Daishou turns away, and soon his back disappears in the storm. "Let's go."

They don't speak again.

They take his father's body as far as they can, and then a little farther. They dump him on the edge of the explored plains, where the land bison and dark spirits sometimes gather.

They leave him there, and Tsukishima isn't ashamed to admit to himself that he doesn't miss his father at all.

He only regrets acting too drastically; he should've never gone out alone.

Though, if his father had planned to kill him since the ceremony...nowhere would've been safe.

He knows that, yet his stomach still churns. The guilt is immense, the thick cloud of dread blurring all his instincts and thoughts.

He walks like a zombie, following Daishou's back. They have no way of knowing if his father will be found. He shouldn't be. Out on the tundra, the snow and earth should consume him, there should be no trace.

Tsukishima knows this, but he still feels the seed of doubt. Not just in his heart, but somewhere in the universe. He thinks about lying in the snow earlier that night, those feelings he had.

They weren't for nothing.

He never wanted to learn about this road, this path, but in the end he always knew he had no choice. The end is coming, and not even the spirits will be able to help him at this point.

Daishou leads him to his house, a place foreign to Tsukishima, but entirely more welcome than his own at the moment. He thinks of his worried brother, sitting at home alone, waiting for Tsukishima and his father to return...

He pushes those thoughts away as Daishou sets him up in a spare room, and as he passes through the foyer, Tsukishima catches the glint of Daishou's finished betrothal necklace.

Somehow, it makes his stomach sink further.

Daishou watches him, but it's not as unsettling as it usually would be. Tsukishima is exhausted; all the life in him from the ceremony is gone, but the urge isn't. He really does wish he could dive into the ocean, away from all this.

Tsukishima curls up pitifully with the furs in the spare bed, his back to Daishou as his mind finally shuts down. In a matter of seconds, his brain is fuzzy, his legs heavy. He wonders how much more weight will be added, maybe he'll be able to sink through the Earth's crust itself.

The wind outside rages on, collecting on the ground like it probably collects on his father's corpse. The thought shouldn't be so comforting.

Tsukishima hates himself more.

The world fades to black, the tapestries and furs mere blurs now, speckled masses which Tsukishima can't process anymore. Daishou sighs behind him as he turns off the lanterns, bathing the room in darkness.

As Tsukishima passes out, he thinks he hears Daishou say something, something oddly reminiscent of  _"It wasn't your fault."_

He can't be sure though, and the suspicion leaves his mind as he slips into a deep sleep. Even if he did remember the words, nothing could make him believe it.

\--

They find his father, or what remained of him, three days later.

His leg had become a nice snack for a wild polar bear dog, the rest of his mangled body found a few yards off from the beast's cave.

A one in a million discovery, and Tsukishima isn't surprised. He doesn't move from his bed, the place he'd watched Akiteru pace from. The place he'd watched his brother w _orry_ for three  _days_ , and Tsukishima had said  _nothing_.

He only claimed their father must've gotten lost in the blizzard, but Tsukishima has never been a great liar. Not with Akiteru.

And Akiteru sees through him once the news comes. Akiteru may hate it, he may not want to believe it, but he can't deny the truth.

He might've known better, had Tsukishima ever opened up to him. But he hadn't. He never even got the chance.

When the resident doctors find a burst heart in their father's torso, they know the cause. Akiteru knows.

And any trust Akiteru has in Tsukishima dies. Why shouldn't it? The evidence is stacked against him, and Akiteru gives his account days later in an empty courtroom, so tense it could crumble under the combined weight.

Akiteru tells the judge everything.

Tsukishima's isolated, strange behavior.

His estrangement from the family.

His threatening words about their father.

He even remembers Tsukishima’s poor attempts to hide his whereabouts; he tells them he was at Daishou’s.

But that could’ve easily been denied, Daishou could’ve easily slipped his way out of that hold like a snake. He’d done enough, he didn’t owe Tsukishima anything. Yet when he’s brought to court to testify, he doesn’t hold back.

But if Tsukishima’s pleas aren’t taken seriously, why would Daishou’s be. A man openly disrespectful of the chief and the title…it all fits too perfectly.

A jealous commoner who got too cocky.

Tsukishima's pleas are met with betrayed stares from Akiteru; the tales of abuse, the claims his father was a horrible man...it's all unbelievable. It's all wild, preposterous fiction.

Akiteru stares at him with tears in his eyes, and it's a sight Tsukishima will never forget. Tsukishima, who killed his brother's hero.

Tsukishima, the killer.

The affair is hushed up to the public; of course it is. The family drama would cause a stir, it's better no one knows. It's better Tsukishima disappears.

Akiteru will be appointed as the new chief, the people trust him. They'll mourn for their father. But life goes on.

Tsukishima's halts.

Akiteru shakes his head from his podium, the judge reading the sentence and charges.

_Bloodbending._

_Murder._

_Lying to police._

Daishou is silent beside him, but they both hear Mika on the sidelines, crying her eyes out. Tsukishima can't look at her either.

At the end of the day, Daishou is his accomplice. They both know what that means. Tsukishima never got to ask him why he did it, but he doesn’t know how he would now.

_Banished_.

Tsukishima's heart stops beating for a moment when the judge pauses, but it's only when his last charge is read that he becomes inconsolable.

_"Tsukishima Kei, for your use of an illegal bending technique, you will be required to wear a bending chip. Any tampering of this chip will result in your immediate imprisonment. This is a life sentence."_

Tsukishima snaps. "What? No...no! Please, anything but that! You  _can't_ \--"

"You both have twenty four hours after the application of your chip to leave the North. Until then, you will be under heavy surveillance."

Tsukishima has to be restrained as the judge leaves the room. "You can't do this!"

_You can't take my bending..._

_Anything_  but that. Tsukishima would rather be where his father is, torn apart. This doesn't feel any different.

His yells echo against the city hall room; Daishou is as still as stone.

" _Akiteru_! Please!" Tsukishima scowls because it's what he knows how to do best, it's powerful, it gets him attention. His brother freezes as he rises from his seat, but his eyes are still fixed on the floor. Tsukishima snarls.  _"Look at me!"_

And in a last act of goodwill, he does. Akiteru looks right at him, and Tsukishima sees nothing but hurt. Fear.

Akiteru is scared of him, and it cuts deeper than any bloodbending.

Tsukishima's voice dies, but he pleads and begs with his eyes.

_Believe me._

_Believe me._

_Please believe me!_

But Akiteru's eyes just fill with tears as he shakes his head, and there's nothing there but loss. His brother waves his hand, and officers pull Tsukishima and Daishou away to their uncertain fate.

It's the last time Tsukishima sees his brother, but the look never leaves him. The frustration, the hatred in his brother's eyes. Tsukishima feels it when the chip is burned into his neck, and he feels it when he watches Daishou and Mika say their goodbyes.

She tries to come with them, she really does. But it’s a side of Daishou Tsukishima has never seen before: selfless. Mika’s life is here, and soon she’ll be a master. He can’t rob her of that so close to her success, but Tsukishima doubts Mika actually cares one bit. She cries into his shoulder and gives them both parting parcels which they don’t open.

Tsukishima feels _it_.

He feels it every waking moment, every single day.

And as he watches the North disappear into the distance, he sees his entire life play out before him, and his image of home crumbles.

He'll never see it again, and worst of all, Akiteru thinks that's just what he deserves.

His brother will always think he's a murderer, and that, more than anything else, kills Tsukishima inside.

The waves carry him and Daishou off solemnly, slowly, and the light of the moon dies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! I have to say it means a lot that I've gotten to this point in the fic, before nano, I never thought this weird idea would actually be brought to life (and it's also gone through so many plot changes oof) ; ; I know it doesn't have many readers but those of you who do enjoy this fic and comment are so kind and sweet, I appreciate you all so much! You're part of the reason I try to update so frequently and really the excitement keeps my inspiration alive so thanks so much! 
> 
> I'm going to give some attention to other projects for next week, but I'll be back soon <3 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	13. drag the lake, bring me home again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again lol I've been very blocked fic wise but I'm slowing getting the hang of it again, especially bc I love this fic so much! I'm back with a longer chapter to hold everyone over, and it's def my favorite so far ;) I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

Tsukishima ends his story in front of the royal tapestry hanging on his wall, the purples and blues so rich and full.

Kuroo can't see his face, but he's pretty sure he doesn't want to. The feelings themselves are more than he can bear, and he's just an outsider. Every word, every memory, melding and meshing in his head. It's like they came alive, playing out like a daydream.

A nightmare.

He might've expected Tsukishima to cry, to babble, but then he gets it. This kind of pain runs so much deeper than that, and Tsukishima has probably exhausted all the tears he ever had.

The blond's hand reaches out, petting the soft fabric as he tries to find words to end the story. They both know he won't; it's not a story with an ending, as much as it deserves one. It's like the end is cut off, floating in limbo like the boat which carried him and Daishou away.

Kuroo has never seen the north, but even he can imagine it. The quiet, icy waves carrying them across the sea.

That's what Republic City is to Tsukishima. The filler chapter right before the author threw the manuscript into a brook. The pages are all torn up and mangled at this point, but Tsukishima can try to hang onto the good parts.

Kuroo always thought the tapestries were so brilliant, decorating the space with vibrant colors, grand. He wonders now if they're some sort of punishment for Tsukishima as much as they're a nostalgia-fueled sign of what once was. They're plastered throughout the home, everywhere Tsukishima looks, as if to remind him of what he's lost.

It's like he wants to drown in the memory, but won't let himself don the colors, the clothes of his past. He clings desperately, but holds himself back with every step.

It all makes sense to Kuroo now.

Tsukishima's real resistance to wearing his tribal clothes; it's not just an identity issue, the result of him losing his bending, so fundamental to him.

It's--

"No one really knew why we left," Tsukishima whispers, tracing the geometric patterns in a trance. "Besides Mika...everyone thought I left from the grief of it all. Daishou was always unpredictable. I didn't say goodbye really...to Shirabu, to anyone."

The regret seeps into every syllable, but Tsukishima shakes his head, clearing his throat. Kuroo isn't sure who he's trying to convince here, himself or Kuroo, but it's not effective either way.

"Kei..." Kuroo's has never felt his face fall this much, his eyes stinging. Ever since meeting Tsukishima, he's been filled with nothing but the urge to protect him, to comfort him. How is he supposed to do that now? This feels like an enemy too big for Kuroo to fight, and he hates it.

Kuroo moves to stand, to pull Tsukishima close and squeeze him until something makes sense, but the blond turns abruptly, lips tight.

Kuroo hates that look on his face, so scared, so lost. Like he's still stuck in that blizzard.

"It's better though, that they don't know," Tsukishima says, meeting Kuroo's gaze. Those stunning eyes tremble, glistening with fear and regret. He doesn't want Kuroo to think he's upset, but it's far too late for that. The anger in Kuroo spikes.

Does Tsukishima really think any of what happened was right? That any of this is okay?

Kuroo reaches out, wants to bring Tsukishima back onto land so he can  _see_  how wrong that sounds.

Tsukishima shakes his head, denying the comfort, as if Kuroo giving him even an ounce of sympathy would also be more than he deserves.

Tsukishima is adamant, resisting the loving looks, the touch. The agitation is clear on his face; Kuroo's love, his understanding...It's not what Tsukishima expected at all. "I hope they never know. I brought shame onto my tribe, I don't... _deserve_  to wear the clothes, don't you see now? It doesn't matter if what I did was wrong or not. I've ruined it all, not just my life, but--"

"That's  _not_  true," Kuroo practically growls, grabbing Tsukishima by the shoulders. The blond gasps, his face an amalgamation of emotion. This is the first time he's talked about it, really processed it. It's like it's happening all over again. At least he doesn't pull away, he can't bear to. Those eyes shine with loss and confusion, begging Kuroo for help even if his mouth says otherwise.

Tsukishima can't resist him. They love each other too much, but Tsukishima has to understand that it also means Kuroo won't let this go. Kuroo can't bear to hear Tsukishima speak this way. The babbling makes Kuroo's blood boil; he doesn't care what Akiteru did and didn't know, how could he do this to Tsukishima?

_His_  Tsukishima, who deserves the world.

"I didn't even want you to know," Tsukishima whispers, and it breaks Kuroo's heart. "I didn't want you to know...what I did. Then you wouldn't trust me...or love me."

Just like Akiteru.

Kuroo's breathing hitches at Tsukishima's pathetic tone, so unlike him, and promises to set this right. He doesn't know how, or even where to start. He has no power, no influence, but he'll be damned if he sits by and does nothing.

For now, there's only one priority in his mind.

Kuroo sets that straight before he does anything else; Tsukishima has to know, with no room for questioning it. He lifts the blond's chin, keeping them at eye level, and Kuroo knows he's never been more truthful about anything in his life. "I will  _always_  love you."

Through any stillness or storm, even if Kuroo has to fight and claw through people to get back to Tsukishima, to save him from the horrible cards he'd been dealt...

Hell, Kuroo was prepared for the worst, his heart completely in Tsukishima's hands. He doesn't regret even a moment of their time together, ugly or otherwise.

Kuroo will love him, and he'll do all he needs to, no questions asked. Tsukishima is the most important person in his life, and he's so much stronger than this, than Kuroo. They can handle this together, he just has to make Tsukishima believe it.

And it looks like he's already started to. Where doubt or insecurity might've surfaced on Tsukishima's face, they're nowhere to be found. Tsukishima couldn't challenge or argue with Kuroo if he tried, and he really doesn't want to.

Tsukishima falls into Kuroo's arms, squeezing tight. Kuroo will be the constant in Tsukishima's life even if it kills him, just like Tsukishima is his. The first person to bring real joy to his life after he left Zaofu. What has he been doing all this time?

He knows now. Wandering, waiting. Waiting for Tsukishima.

Wherever Tsukishima is, Kuroo will follow, and he'll be damn pleased about it. But there's only one place that'll make Tsukishima truly happy again.

Kuroo won't stop until they're there, standing on the icy plain.

"Thank you," Tsukishima whispers against him, and it's enough for now, for both of them. They're together, and even when nothing makes sense, it keeps them grounded.

"We're going to fix this," he says into Tsukishima's hair, kissing the top of it. He's not sure if Tsukishima has faith anymore, or if he even thinks he deserves the help, but Kuroo will have enough for the both of them. He'll help Tsukishima see the truth. Maybe if they get other people to vouch for the blond, maybe if they appeal to Akiteru again... "We'll talk to Daishou and see what we can do."

Despite how many problems they have with one another, Kuroo can't exactly leave the waterbender out of this. He's in the same boat as Tsukishima, and besides...

Kuroo has a newfound appreciation for him now, he wants to personally thank him for staying by Tsukishima, for not wavering. Plus, it makes sense why he's so angry all the time now.

Kuroo couldn't imagine being separated from the person he loves, the person he wants to marry. Even with that soul crushing reality, Daishou managed to get a job, to provide for himself.

The guy is pretty alright in his book.

However, as soon as Kuroo throws out the idea, Tsukishima stiffens in his arms. When the blond pulls away, his face looks panicked, like the idea of Kuroo talking to Daishou about  _any_  of this is something he can't risk. "No! We don't need to involve him."

They stare at each other.

Tsukishima swallows, and bless his heart, he's trying to make Kuroo back down with the stern gaze of his. Sadly, it doesn't work. It's cute though.

Gently, Kuroo rubs Tsukishima's shoulders, the confusion clear in his words. "Okay...Kei, you know we need him, right? He was banished too."

"I--" Tsukishima starts, flinching. Kuroo isn't trying to treat him like he's dumb, but Tsukishima's emotional state isn't the most trustworthy right then. Besides, why the hell would Tsukishima try to exclude Daishou? It has to be a mistake.

Kuroo waits, and the anger in Tsukishima's eyes dissolves as he curls in on himself. He pulls away gently from Kuroo, plopping down onto the bed as he stares at the floor. "I know. I just...I don't want to get his hopes up. I don't think we should tell him."

_'I don't think we should remind him.'_

And in an instant, Kuroo gets it.

Tsukishima kicks his legs against the old floor, pressing down on the spots that creak. Kuroo wants to tell him he doesn't have to shoulder this alone, Kuroo won't let him.

But won't Daishou feel the same way?

Kuroo sighs, watching his boyfriend fret and worry over something he knows needs to be fixed.

It's hard. Kuroo  _knows_  it's hard to bring up painful memories, to make someone you care about relive them. Maybe that's what Tsukishima is doing with Daishou; the pain in Tsukishima's chest must be impossible to measure. But Daishou lost someone too, someone he loved.

Or maybe he's still hanging onto the guilt of Daishou helping him in the first place, of pulling him away from their home.

Kuroo can't let that continue either, but he stays put, giving Tsukishima his breathing room. The house is quiet, another reminder that Daishou is gone, somewhere Tsukishima doesn't even know. They don't talk about these things; for so long Kuroo assumed it was all Daishou's doing, but it's the both of them.

Tsukishima's too afraid to hurt Daishou further.

"You feel guilty, don't you?" Kuroo asks after too many beats of rain against the roof; he wants Tsukishima to admit it. It's not right, but Kuroo can't convince him otherwise if Tsukishima doesn't say it.

Tsukishima stays there, the memories dancing in his eyes. Seeing someone so proud duck his head is more than Kuroo can take, but he waits. He waits even as Tsukishima gets up, unable to deal with the sea of feelings he's kept wound up so tight inside him.

Kuroo knows the answer already, but has Tsukishima ever admitted it aloud?

Doubtful.

The only person Tsukishima has had to lean on for this was Daishou, and they obviously thought the other hated them.

That was Kuroo's theory anyways, and as amusing as it would've been in any other situation...

Now it just hurts.

Tsukishima taps the front of his boot against the wall, shaking his head. Those shoulders, trembling with strain, still.

"They were going to get married you know," Tsukishima breathes out, a humorless laugh escaping him. The hand clutching his sleeve instinctively flies up to his neck, where Daishou's betrothal necklace would've been. Kuroo no longer feels jealous; he'd have to be an absolute bastard to. Tsukishima shakes his head as he turns around; coping with it for the first time can't be easy. "He finished the necklace, he lent it to me to hide the chip but I could tell...he--"

Tsukishima's hands fall to his sides, some sort of realization washing over him like rain. Those eyes Kuroo loves so much are desperate, and Kuroo's hands curl in the comforter.

Tsukishima doesn't have the words for this, much less the words to comfort himself. All he has is one thought, one that's been ruining him more than his own brother's betrayal.

"I ruined his life."

Kuroo is up before Tsukishima even finishes the thought, taking him gently into his arms. Tsukishima tries to side step him, to not show his grief-stricken expression, but Kuroo's pins him there with his sincerity alone. Tsukishima doesn't want to accept it, but Kuroo will make him. He can't stand to see Tsukishima this way, and no matter how Daishou acts...

He can't possibly want Tsukishima thinking these things.

"Kei, this isn't your fault," Kuroo says, as serious as he can manage, all truth. Tsukishima flinches. "None of it. It was your father's."

Tsukishima tries to turn; those eyes glaze over and Kuroo can't stop laying it on. Had Tsukishima ever been told this stuff by anyone but his own head? Did he ever believe it?

Kuroo has to make sure.

"Kei, listen to me," Kuroo begs, keeping Tsukishima in front of him. The blond's attempts to pull away are in vain, and as Kuroo speaks, the effort drains out of him. "Your father was a  _terrible_  person, you were defending yourself. You can't keep... _hurting_  yourself like this. Even Daishou sees it, he's always telling you to stop."

_You can't keep letting this dig into you._

Tsukishima has been bleeding for a long time. If anything, Kuroo can be mad at Daishou for that, for letting him. But maybe they've both been too hurt to move.

"It's true," Kuroo says again, and Tsukishima snarls.

"He just resents me for not being proud!" The blond shouts. "It's not about this, he's...he thinks I'm just as ungrateful and guilty looking as before. It makes him look bad. All I do is hide, even he said so."

_Yeah, because he's an idiot._

Kuroo knows that. He believes that.

"No, I don't think that's it at all," he says, softly. He guides Tsukishima to the bed, his grip only lessening when Tsukishima stops trying to run. The blond stares beyond him, either at the tapestry or some void Kuroo can't reach. But he's listening, he's listening and Kuroo can't let that go to waste. "He's so bad at communicating though, I guess I can see that. But Daishou probably just wants you to stop punishing yourself, it's not you. Not the you he knows anyways."

At that, Tsukishima's breath hitches; it's maybe unfair of Kuroo but it's true. Confident, withdrawn, but proud Tsukishima. That's the person Daishou grew up around, the person he saw advance and master the element they both adored.

Kuroo realizes how scary it must've been for Daishou, to see that person die on one, cold night.

Daishou isn't a fan of change, and it applies to Tsukishima too. That Tsukishima from before, the one who knows what's right and what's not, isn't dead in either of their eyes.

Daishou and Kuroo will just have to convince the blond of that.

"That starts with being  _you_  again, dressing like you. You need to stop acting like a criminal, what you did...anyone would've done. And Daishou helped you right?" He doesn't give Tsukishima a chance to find some weird detail, some stupid thing to disprove him. Actions speak louder than words, and Daishou never hesitated. "He knew it too. He's not a little kid, he knew what he was  _doing_. He couldn't leave you there..."

"Such an idiot," Tsukishima whispers, and it brings him back to that night. He'd given Daishou a choice, a chance. He could've left, he could've escaped and lived his normal, happy life with Mika. But he didn't. "Why?"

Tsukishima's question might not be for him, but he answers it anyways.

"He's your friend," Kuroo states with a shrug, and there's no doubt in those words. Even when Tsukishima looks suspicious, he can't backpedal to save his life. It would be a lie. "I know it..doesn't sound convincing, and maybe it doesn't feel that way either but Daishou...Daishou cares about you. And I'll bet my life he doesn't blame you for any of this, not really."

He'll be a tough nut to crack, but not impossible. Or at least, Kuroo hopes not.

You don't just cover up a murder for someone you don't believe in.

That'll be Kuroo's first talking point.

The grunt work to get Daishou to admit that won't be fun though, it won't be painless. It's why he has to get Tsukishima through the hard stuff now, lest he be swayed by any grief wrought lies Daishou has to throw at him.

They need each other, they need each other in ways Kuroo and Mika can't be substitutes for. No matter how many letters Daishou writes or how much time Tsukishima spends with Kuroo, the gap between them extends, perilous.

Whatever hurtful things Daishou tries to say, Kuroo sees him for who he is, and he believes Tsukishima will too.

"Daishou is a stubborn prick, but even I can tell he's not a bad guy," Kuroo begrudgingly admits. He'd be a hypocrite not to. "He never left you. He never sold you out."

And for that, Kuroo will be indebted to Daishou forever. When the storm has settled, he'll thank him properly for taking care of Tsukishima, Kuroo's everything.

Tsukishima huffs, wiping his eyes as if expecting the tears to already be there. It's a funny habit, Kuroo can't help but smile, especially when Tsukishima finally nods. "He really isn't..." And then those shining eyes are on his, confident. "A bad guy, you know."

_Yeah, I do now._

Kuroo nods, smiling softly. Little by little, he's getting Tsukishima there. Soon, there will be nothing to keep them from fixing this. "You care about him too, don't you? And Mika?"

Tsukishima throws up his hands, his laugh breathless and disbelieving. Kuroo winces, already knowing what to expect. It's fair. "Yes! But...god, he makes me so angry! You know we never talked about what happened? Not even a little. We barely talk about our old lives at all. It's a chore to ask about Mika, Daishou just shuts me out. If I ever did push, which was most of the time, we would just fight until I forgot what the whole point was. How can you say he...that he doesn't hate me?"

"Because I just know," Kuroo states, without any ounce of hesitation. The flail of Tsukishima's arms fades as his breathing does, the harsh pants flitting through the silence around them.

It's hard. Kuroo knows it's so hard for Tsukishima to trust and have faith. Especially after all this...

With a heavy heart, Kuroo reaches for the necklace around his neck, settling his fingertips right above the spot where he's sure the chip sits. After so much, he wouldn't blame Tsukishima for not believing in anything.

But Tsukishima is still strong; the blond's hand comes up to join Kuroo's, a silent comfort.

It's okay, it says.

Kuroo can't possibly fail to return that kindness, all that effort to move even when the world is so crushing.

"Love, you can't be happy like this." Kuroo's whisper looks like it pierces Tsukishima as an icy shard would, the cold spreading through his veins. If Kuroo tried to coil him in metal, he'd be afraid of Tsukishima shattering. The blond ducks his head, lips trembling while Kuroo speaks. It hurts, it hurts knowing he can't solve all of Tsukishima's problems himself. "I know we have each other, but I want you to be even happier, even more amazing than you already are. You need closure for that...you need Daishou. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but if you two could just talk, you could start putting things together."

Finding a solution, how many times had the both of them avoided even entertaining that idea? Kuroo wouldn't let them do so any longer.

He just wants Tsukishima to be himself again, his unashamed self.

Tsukishima's brow furrows at the words. "What do you mean?"

And well, that's where Kuroo gets a bit nuts. He has no proof, no evidence, no real leads even...

Just a gut feeling, and so far, those haven't let him down.

"I...I don't know how to explain it, but this whole killer thing, I think it has something to do with you." At Tsukishima's skeptical eyes, Kuroo shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don't hold me to it, it's just a feeling. You being here...the reason you got banished...it's all too similar in my opinion. But either way, wouldn't you like to go home?"

The look on Tsukishima's face is nothing short of communicating 'duh,' but with more emotion, more reservation. Like he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but...

But he can still remember the still of the tundra, the snow.

Going back is all Tsukishima has ever wanted since he left, and now it's all Kuroo wants too.

Without waiting for Tsukishima to question him more, Kuroo makes his pitch. "Solving this mystery would certainly look good for you, maybe even get you an audience with the chief of the North?"

At the mention of his brother, Tsukishima stiffens, but Kuroo sees the life flash in his eyes. The fire is still there, the willingness to do whatever it takes to get back and prove himself.

It's a long shot. They're not detectives, hell they're not even cops. They have no clue where to start or if they should even be attempting to. They've both heard the stories of the victims, the mangled treatment of their bodies. It's a risk, but Kuroo can feel something telling him to pursue it.

He's done a lot of digging in the past few weeks, maybe he has a knack for it.

Before any of that though...

Kuroo sighs and grabs Tsukishima's hand, squeezing tight. As afraid and reluctant as Tsukishima looks at Kuroo's words, there's an acceptance there too. "If you're going to change things, even a little bit, you have to work with Daishou. You guys are kinda accomplices, remember?"

It's a joke, not an appropriate one by any means, but they're both a little messed up at this point. Tsukishima laughs weakly, but it's real this time, that beautiful gaze fixed fondly at their joined hands.

"Yeah, guess we are," Tsukishima whispers before raising his head, regarding Kuroo with nothing but complete, unrestrained love. "Thank you, Tetsurou."

_Don't thank me yet._  Kuroo grins at the thought; he won't accept any kind of apology until Tsukishima is safely back on his snowy shore, hand in his.

"If Daishou helped you once, he'll help you again," Kuroo reminds him as he stands, bringing Tsukishima with him. Cupping the sides of Tsukishima's face, he kisses him, slow and sweet. Tsukishima reciprocates in full, like he always does, and Kuroo knows they can get through anything now.

The promise flows from his lips like water. "We'll figure things out, okay?"

And although Tsukishima's eyes tremble, he nods once, putting all his trust in Kuroo. "Okay."

Kuroo grins as the rain outside slows to a stop, and for once, he can't wait to breath in the cool, damp air. "Now, let's go find him." 

\--

It's not hard to locate Daishou, but when they do find him, Kuroo can already tell this won't be a pretty conversation.

The first thing they hear is wood hitting the floor violently; the large double doors creak open when Tsukishima pushes them, letting the steady patter of rain into the mostly empty building. The only things which line the walls are the boxes of fresh shipments and debris, leaving a large span of space between the door and where Daishou's feet are planted.

He doesn't look at them.

Daishou slashes some of the crates open with some excessive force, the water graceful as it slices in a blink of an eye. The clatter of splintering wood hits the floor like two Satomobiles crashing head on, and Kuroo flinches.

Tsukishima doesn't, not even a little.

Kuroo already knows his place in this moment, and it's off to the sidelines. As much as he doesn't want Tsukishima to handle this alone....this is something only the blond and Daishou can hash out. Kuroo dutifully steps off to the side, but Tsukishima doesn't approach the other waterbender.

In fact, he keeps the large spread of distance between them, watching Daishou wordlessly obliterate the last of the shipping crates. They contain useless imports, cheap metal work and office supplies, not exactly things that need to be opened so roughly.

Again, Kuroo can sense the tension before Daishou even turns around, and Kuroo can feel it in his gut. Daishou knows they're there. He wonders if it's his form of an insult, to not grace Tsukishima with so much as a look at first.

But Daishou has never been patient, especially in comparison to Tsukishima. Kuroo watches as his boyfriend stays put, face steady, but with the warring emotions from before still clear as day.

With a bored glance over his shoulder, Daishou only pauses for a second before going back to his work, loading some of the goods into haphazard piles atop the nearby forklift.

"What?" Daishou asks gruffly, kicking a plank across the floor. Kuroo thinks back to the unopened letter from Mika, dated just this morning. Daishou hasn't gotten to it yet; the small dose of happiness is absent from his entire demeanor. Essentially, they're probably the last people Daishou wants to see.

But this is necessary.

Tsukishima takes a deep breath where he stands, thinking to himself. Those eyes which overanalyze everything are doing the same with Daishou, trying to decide where to start, where to breach first...

With a simple tilt of his head, he must decide he's wasted enough time already. "Why did you save me that day?"

Daishou's movements pause like he's been shoved, the subtle twitch enough to make Kuroo hold his breath. Tsukishima opens and closes his mouth, forbidding himself from adding more, from trying to sidestep his real intent.

The rain doesn't even help the quiet as Daishou lowers his arms, shoulders tense. In that one moment, he must know where this conversation is headed, and just like Tsukishima, he might not be ready.

Kuroo almost feels bad. At least Tsukishima got a pep talk, time to think...

Daishou's responses and emotions wills be unconfined and raw; Kuroo only hopes Tsukishima can handle them.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Tsukishima closes his eyes, breathing in. Ah, so he'd expected that too. Straight out refusal. But he does what he's been too afraid to do in the past: he pushes. "Daishou...we have to talk about this--"

"We don't need to talk about  _anything_ ," Daishou's voice cuts through the air like the blades of water he commands, scathing like steam. Tsukishima flinches, and he knows they've reached the breaking point. "I never saved you, we're both here, aren't we?"

Here. As if _here_ is the worst place imaginable. He says it with disgust, and Tsukishima's eyes flash with hurt. Kuroo knows what he must be thinking; he was right, Daishou regrets everything, being here with him.

Kuroo believes though, they just have to crack Daishou's shell to get to the truth. He's not as willing as Tsukishima.

With that in mind, Tsukishima steels himself, taking a small, hesitant step forward. "So? You could've left me alone! Why didn't you? You didn't  _have_  to be here."

_You had a choice._

Daishou throws the last of the crates into the wall nearest him, spinning to face Tsukishima fully. Those eyes narrow into slits, like a viper ready to strike; the contrast is one Kuroo can't quite wrap his head around. The rage there is palpable, but so closed off, as if even a drop more would be deadly. It's like staring down at the path of a venomous creature, and Tsukishima doesn't falter.

"Why do you  _care_  all of a sudden?" Daishou snarls, dodging the question. Kuroo isn't surprised. The wording makes him squint though; from his perspective, all Tsukishima has done is care about Daishou.

Before Kuroo can think on that more, the other side of the rope snaps.

Tsukishima huffs, like he's talking to a child, a sorry excuse for a defense mechanism. Kuroo knows better. The desperation is apparent in his voice. "Because it matters! Just tell me what your problem is with me, I really just want to  _know_  for once. Do you blame me? Is it Mika--"

At the sound of his beloved's name, Daishou cuts him off. "Shut  _up,_  Kei. Don't bring her into this! It had nothing to do with her," he says, and the pain in his voice is something even Kuroo feels. "It's not that big of a deal, you don't need to tie anything together. I  _hate_  when you do that. There's nothing there, so stop trying to psychoanalyze me just because  _you_  feel bad! I'm sorry I'm the broken cog of your happy new life in this shithole, but please, spare me the pity."

Daishou scoffs at the same time Tsukishima's jaw drops, but unfortunately for both of them, neither have a habit of thinking before they speak when angry. Kuroo is powerless to stop this fight as Tsukishima laughs humorlessly, homing in on only bits and pieces of Daishou's response.

"Happy? How is my life here any better than yours?" Tsukishima asks, his hand already reaching, like a reflex, to scratch at the chip in his neck.

Daishou shrugs, kicking at some of the debris with tense movements, the careless veneer completely transparent. He cares, he cares way too much. "You seem to be having a great time with your boyfriend there, blending in with everyone else..."

Again, Tsukishima is baffled. That's not what he wanted at all; he found Kuroo yeah, but this forced blending in...Why did Daishou think Tsukishima wanted it? "Is that really all you can think about?" Tsukishima probably can't think of a better question, his face painted with shock.

Daishou just shrugs, the smile on his face stretched and fake as hell. "What can I say, I'm selfish."

But that's not true either, no matter how much Daishou might want them to believe it. Kuroo glares at him, remembering his words and actions. Broken cog in a happy life...

The words of someone left behind.

At once it becomes clear, but the chances of Kuroo intervening are gone.

"No, you're just a brat," Tsukishima snaps, but it's diluted by the hurt in his voice, hurt which apparently Daishou can't see. That, or he doesn't want to acknowledge it's real, that he might be wrong. Tsukishima _doesn't_ see him as some burden to 'fix' so his life will be without problems. "Just because you don't have Mika doesn't mean you can blame me for...for falling in love."

"I don't give a shit about your love life Kei!"

"It sure seems like it," Tsukishima accuses, but they both have to know that's not the real problem. Hell, Kuroo has long since figured it out.

It's the first time Kuroo has heard Daishou use Tsukishima's first name, and the emotion behind it seems to slice like barbed wire across Tsukishima's entire being.

Daishou shakes his head as he regards the blond with cold indifference, but the mistiness there betrays it, holding so much Kuroo can't even begin to describe. "Maybe I should've just left you there."

Tsukishima's eyes waver as his body deflates for a split second; the hit lands, harshly, but Daishou doesn't seem to take any pride in the fact. Tsukishima's voice trembles, fists curled at his sides. "Yeah, but you didn't, yet you're still acting like the same prick as before!"

Daishou's hands flail, gesturing to Tsukishima's  _everything_. The green, the garb. "You're  _nothing_  like before! I can't keep up."

The way he says it lets some of the pain in his eyes seep out, drenching the words like waves. Daishou chokes on it, and Tsukishima flinches, looking down at himself.

Tsukishima can't refute it; he looks like a stranger, hearing his history, Kuroo can't say that's wrong. This is not how Tsukishima is supposed to look, he's hidden himself for so long.

But Tsukishima is still Tsukishima, with all his strength and pride.

Surely, he has to see that. Daishou has to see it too.

Kuroo knows that's the real reason he's upset. Why can't Daishou just say it? Why can't he tell Tsukishima he's too amazing to be hurting himself like this?

Instead, Daishou shakes his head at the blond, at a loss. "Why do you care so much about me now? We're not friends, we've never been friends."

And that's perhaps the biggest lie of all. But what does Tsukishima know? Whether he likes to admit it or not, he holds Daishou's words at a higher level than ever these days, what he hears now is the truth to him. "I just thought..."

Hearing Tsukishima sound so weak isn't fair, but when Kuroo tries to approach him, he gets a quick shake of the head. It's tense, but it's sure. Kuroo freezes, and doesn't know how to stop what's to come.

All of a sudden, he's aware of the wet floor, the puddles of rain water at the corners of the warehouse.

Daishou's anger mounts, and that's one thing Tsukishima is aware of; he knows what to expect.

"Yeah well I don't wanna hear it, you've had no problem moving on, you don't need me!" Daishou shouts, and Kuroo sees the light go off in Tsukishima's head. He gets it.

He gets all of it.

The isolation, the anger over Tsukishima's disguises...all just a mask for the hurt and insecurity he felt. The same as Tsukishima, stupid ignorance, and the belief that the other resented them. Even as Tsukishima realizes it, the searing pain is too much; it seeps out, staining everything. All this could've been avoided..."Is that what this is? You're throwing a tantrum instead of admitting  _you_  pushed me away? I thought you couldn't stand being around me,  _of course_  I left you alone! Even now, you can't tell me I was wrong, this whole time...it wasn't that at all. You can't admit it..."

Daishou's eyes widen as Tsukishima speaks, the briefest hint of remorse and vulnerability shining through. The air is charged as Tsukishima's eyes narrow; Kuroo likes to think he's being smart. That Tsukishima realizes the only way to get through to Daishou is through provocation.

Even though that's the truth....Kuroo doesn't doubt Tsukishima's words aren't just the product of pure hurt and spite, and well...so be it.

Kuroo takes a step back as Tsukishima chokes on his insult, a piss poor defense. A remnant of all of Tsukishima's past faults and flaws, the need to return the hurt tenfold. "You weren't ready to get married!"

Daishou barely registers the end of the statement before his arm is moving, sweeping against the ground to collect the murky rainwater. It's more than Kuroo initially thought; the water forms a thick band, enough to look painful. It's faster than a blink as it flies past him, the rush of it louder than a waterfall or a snapping tree trunk.

Kuroo is frozen; but what looks impossible to dodge for a non-waterbender, is just a fun challenge for a masterful one. Tsukishima expects it, and his arms rotate fluidly, his palm flat as it hits the blow head on. The water disperses around him and outward, like it was nothing but a weak splash, the sound splintering.

It takes Kuroo a few seconds to hear the blaring of Tsukishima's chip as the countdown starts, but the blond doesn't seem concerned. That, or he's too blinded by emotion to remember he has a timer at all.

The water falls at Tsukishima's feet as steam blows out of Daishou's nostrils, but neither of them back down. They respect each other too much for that.

"You can't win Suguru," Tsukishima warns. It's less a brag, and more of a plea.  _Please, let's just talk about this._

"There you go, always thinking you're stronger," Daishou snarls, rocking on the balls of his feet. He's unsteady, unfocused. "I don't have a time limit, remember?"

The jab makes Tsukishima scowl, his lip twitching upwards in a grimace. Daishou takes a stance, not as solid as Tsukishima's, or as threatening.

He probably doesn't care.

This was never about showing or proving actual prowess. Despite that knowledge, Tsukishima gives Daishou what he wants. He'll see his provocation through until the end.

"I don't even need the full thirty seconds to take you down," Tsukishima grits out, sure and calm, and Daishou doesn't hesitate.

Three wisps of water fly forward from the middle of the warehouse, closer to Tsukishima; he backs up, dodging each as they solidify into ice at the last moment. The shards hit the back of the wall, breaking through the wood. At first, it's too violent for Kuroo to ignore. If one of those were to actually hit Tsukishima, it would cause some damage.

But then he notices it.

Daishou sends a trail of ice forward, and it creeps up Tsukishima's leg, causing him to halt for a brief moment. But it's not strong enough.

None of their attacks are strong enough to cause any real harm.

Tsukishima breaks through the ice, cracking it until he's free. He reuses the water to form a thin whip, flicking it forward until it strikes Daishou in the chest. It's enough to bruise, but it doesn't break skin, it doesn't even tear at the thick parka Daishou has on.

They're both idiots, but as the ringing of Tsukishima's chip gets louder, he realizes they'll both learn their limits soon enough.

Daishou's face flushes from frustration, his arms rising as the water around him does. He builds a wall, like a tsunami wave, and sends it rushing forward with little remorse. Tsukishima can handle it, Tsukishima can handle whatever he throws at him.

Maybe he knows, and even more, he knows ultimately this is all futile. He wants it anyways.

With a shout, Daishou pushes the wall again as it nears, a last ounce of force to get his rage out. With sweat beading on his forehead, Tsukishima sends one of his hands straight up, slicing the wall in two.

Part of it still manages to clip his shoulder, sending him flying back as his leg slides forward, a blast of water jutting up from the ground to mirror the strike onto Daishou. It grazes his shoulder, and he winces. That one does manage to cut a little, wisps of white fur falling to the floor.

Before meeting Tsukishima, Kuroo never thought water could do the same damage as earth. He now realizes how very, very wrong that opinion was.

Not waiting for a retaliation, Tsukishima spins, building momentum as he creates a large wave of water around him, the ring of water similar to the move he'd taught Kuroo. This one is much more intricate though, not babying in the slightest. Any attacks Daishou sends his way quickly get eaten up by the vortex, and Daishou is being downright erratic with them.

Perhaps he's given up, going all out in a frenzy of uncalculated blows.

Disks, shards, and blocks of ice seem to disintegrate upon contact as Daishou throws them forward, and the wave grows, coiling in tight around Tsukishima until he pauses, bringing his hands in. Ready to strike.

Daishou doesn't stand a chance against it.

The ringing is incessant now, high pitched and horrid; they've both forgotten it. Daishou growls, taking his own stance to fire one last blow right when Tsukishima is most vulnerable. Kuroo sees the plan, when Tsukishima strikes, he'll be unguarded.

Daishou never gets the chance. Neither of them do.

Tsukishima moves to strike out as Daishou tenses, pulling his energy into his own blow, and then everything stops.

There's a beat of silence, in which all Kuroo can hear is the rushing water, and then it stops. Unnaturally, pitifully, replaced by a spark of electricity.

Kuroo can't reach Tsukishima fast enough, but he tries. He forgets all about Daishou, about this stupid fight between them. "Kei!"

He watches as Tsukishima's body contorts, his body twitching and bending in on itself as the invisible shockwave races through him, and the water around him falls in a heap, flooding the surrounding area. It hits the ground, shaking the inside of the building with how loud the splash is.

Kuroo trudges through it as Tsukishima falls to the side, legs buckling. Kuroo never thought he'd have to see the chip actually do its job, never wanted to. But now the injustice of it all is so much more apparent; it's wrong, and Kuroo wishes more than anything to free Tsukishima from it.

Time slows, Kuroo looks over at Daishou for only a brief second, as if daring him to take advantage of his opponent's weakness. To his surprise, he's already stopped. Daishou's eyes are wide, mouth agape as the water he was bending droops to the side, eventually falling into a puddle when Daishou lets go of it.

Like a traumatized child, Daishou just stares before dropping to his knees, unsure of how to cope with what he's seeing.

He's never seen it happen before either.

"Kei!" Kuroo rushes out as Tsukishima takes up all his attention, lightly jolting in his arms. Kuroo had caught him easily, feeling the muscles convulse against his skin. It hadn't been that bad since Tsukishima had stopped fairly quick, but Kuroo is a mess with worry as Tsukishima takes a few gasping breaths. Water seeps through both their clothes as Tsukishima squirms. "Hey, c'mon. You're alright..."

_Please be alright._

Kuroo takes Tsukishima's shaking hand in his, squeezing tights as Tsukishima coughs. The fear in his eyes as he looks around is more than Kuroo can take, and he cups the side of Tsukishima's cheek until he's looking right at him, reminding him that he's safe.

The blond's chest still heaves from the shock, but as he blinks, the terror and pain gradually dissipate into relief. Awareness.

It's over, and the tremors end.

"Oh thank goodness," Kuroo says as he brings Tsukishima into a hug. Then, he remembers. He pulls back, tearing off the cheap necklace around Tsukishima's neck. Kuroo inspects the chip to find it still intact, the skin around it red and irritated.

He tries not to glare too murderously, and Tsukishima winces, his fingers ghosting over the raw skin.

Kuroo can't do much, and he hates it, but he kisses the blond's forehead. When Tsukishima manages to give him a small smile, he knows it was the best he could've done.

Helping Tsukishima to sit up, he spares a glance over at Daishou to find him watching intently, his face ghostly pale. He looks a lot like how Kuroo feels; lost, unsure of what to do. As soon as Kuroo looks at him, the other's gaze is back on the floor. He's never looked more like a kid, afraid to be seen, sitting in a giant puddle of water.

Kuroo wants so badly to be angry with him, but...

He feels a tug against his wrist, and Kuroo's gaze flies back down to his boyfriend. Tsukishima is giving him a serious look, a cautionary one, and Kuroo doesn't understand.

Or at least, he doesn't, until Tsukishima moves to get up.

Kuroo reacts instantly as Tsukishima groans in pain, willing him to sit back down. But Tsukishima is stubborn as always, angled towards Daishou.

Their conversation isn't over; that much is obvious, but with how things are...

Kuroo tries to steady Tsukishima, to lead him away from this dark, grimy place. "H-hey, we can do this later, you need to--"

"It's okay," Tsukishima silences him, his tone gravely but confident. He keeps giving Kuroo that  _look_ , that pleading face. It's the same face Tsukishima has given him tons of times, asking only one thing of Kuroo. Trust.

To trust that he can do this.

Wordlessly, Kuroo releases him.

Tsukishima can barely lift himself off the ground, but he makes the effort. The small walk to Daishou is more like a crawl as the blond wades through the small sea of water in front of him, soaking his clothes thoroughly. Neither of them seem to care, and Daishou doesn't look up once as Tsukishima trudges towards him, eventually plopping down with a light splash and a wince.

The blond's body still shudders every now and again, the aftermath of harsh convulsions, and they sit there for a while, letting it all settle in.

Tsukishima's neck is still bare and on display, revealing the singular metallic chip embedded in his neck. So easy to put there, so easy to remove, yet so dangerous.

Eventually, Daishou begins to peek at it, eyes crinkling as if he experiences the pain himself. The guilt on his face looks strange there, Kuroo thinks, but this is also Daishou's natural state.

This is Daishou, honest.

Neither of them move away from each other as they sit, and the only sound Kuroo can discern is the light ripple of water whenever one of them so much as moves an inch. Tsukishima doesn't seem to be in a hurry. This time, he leaves it all in Daishou's hands.

And this time, Daishou doesn't disappoint.

"Does it hurt?" He whispers after the longest time, looking at Tsukishima's neck. It's a stupid question, but it takes Kuroo a moment to realize Daishou isn't just talking about the chip, but everything that comes with it.

Including this messed up, self-made divide between the two of them. All at once, he sees Daishou's face crumble. How could it have gotten so messed up?

"Always," Tsukishima says with a nod, and Daishou is already shaking his head. The other waterbender sighs before kicking his foot out, a spray of water hitting one of the lone crates left over.

Daishou looks at Tsukishima, really looks at him, and Kuroo realizes it's also a rare sight. They've been so upset and hurt by the mere sight of one another, thinking the other secretly resented them for everything. Kuroo kind of wants to hit them both, but more than anything...

He hopes they come to an understanding.

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Daishou tries, but the words get lodged in his throat, thickened by unshed tears. It startles the both of them, and even makes Tsukishima huff out a laugh. It's not everyday they get to see Daishou so emotional, and the waterbender flushes at his own display.

Then, the words they've both been searching for. "I just--I couldn't leave you there."

It's like a rush of refreshing, winter air. Tsukishima sighs, taking it in, a hint of sad, nostalgic smile on his features. Daishou seems to relax too, unburdened, finally trusting Tsukishima with this kind of vulnerability. The rest rushes out.

Tsukishima nods. "I'm glad you didn't, really glad." He bites his lip, hesitating. "But...I'm sorry I got us here, I never told anyone about anything, about Dad--"

In an instant, Daishou's hand is on his shoulder, tightening in affirmation. Daishou might be easily flustered, quick to irritate, but no one could challenge the seriousness of that look. "You didn't do  _anything_. Your dad was an asshole, I was...surprised yeah. But I didn't doubt you for a second about that, especially after seeing it with my own eyes. If you ask me, your brother was being an idiot."

It gets a small laugh out of Tsukishima, but more than that, it's clear, crisp validation. Tsukishima closes his eyes, unable to handle how much he  _needed_  it. And all the while, Daishou confesses. "I wasn't mad about that you know, or Kuroo...it just upset me how you decided it was your fault, how you made yourself pay for it. The clothes, the hiding...you looked like you hated it. I just couldn't take how pitiful you looked."

And like that, Kuroo's suspicions are confirmed. He smiles even as he watches his boyfriend's face come close to tears. The catharsis isn't always pretty, but he's glad these two could find their way back to each other. If they aren't friends, then Kuroo doesn't really know what constitutes as such.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Tsukishima whispers through a sniffle, one he'll surely deny in the future.

"I don't know," Daishou admits through his weak tone, his voice giving out towards the end. "I didn't know how. I fucked up, you were all I had. I saw how happy you were, and I guess...I got upset. It was stupid and wrong but...part of me was afraid you'd leave me. After all the shit we'd been through, I couldn't imagine not having you around, and I hated how helpless that made me feel. The truth is I...I can't handle being here alone."

Hearing the final stretch of truth from Daishou's mouth, Tsukishima finally smiles for real. It's all Kuroo expected and more, and he smiles too, watching Tsukishima shove Daishou lightly. "You really are dumb. I don't think I could leave you if I tried." At that Daishou laughs too, but it's tiny, bogged down by sniffles of his own. "All this time, I thought you hated me..."

The reaction is instantaneous, and a bigger comfort to Tsukishima than he can probably describe with words.

"No, I don't hate you Kei, I've never--" Daishou hesitates, looking away as the flush comes back to his face. After all that, now he's refusing to say more?

It's a lot to admit in one day, and Tsukishima rolls his eyes. There's not much else to do.

Daishou is Daishou at the end of the day.

With that in mind, Tsukishima lifts his hand to Daishou's shoulder, taking a deep breath. He shoots a glance over at Kuroo, and he responds in no time, going over to Tsukishima to offer his support.

He knows after all that's happened, Daishou has lost a lot of his hope and drive. But maybe now they're on the same page, together, they can actually make a difference. With Kuroo on their side, they can get to the bottom of things. Even if it's hard, what else have they got to lose?

Slowly, Tsukishima levels with Daishou, imploring him with his eyes. "Suguru, what happened to you, to  _us_ , was wrong. But we can try to do something about it. We need you if we're gonna fix it."

Daishou eyes them both skeptically, eyeing Kuroo as if for a confirmation. Kuroo just shrugs, smiling with no sign of hesitation. "You're his accomplice, after all. I think we can get you guys back home."

At the mention of it, Daishou squints in disbelief, his muscles already tense from the harsh memories. His home, his life...

It couldn't be won back so simply in his mind, but all Kuroo needs is for him to try.

"Is that even possible?" Daishou asks, too unnerved to have any faith. It's a lot; Tsukishima knows it, Kuroo knows it. To risk everything again with no hope of success...

Tsukishima sighs, and it's the best he can offer. For him, the small chance, even just a possibility is enough. He needs it to be enough for Daishou too. "I don't know, but I'm sure Mika would want us to try."

This time, the reminder isn't taken the wrong way. Mika was special to both of them, and the mention of her is no longer forbidden. In fact, judging by Daishou's face, it's all he needed. Her name has Daishou's walls crumbling down, and Kuroo admires the way one person can change his whole perspective so fast. Kuroo can relate; he hopes he can meet Mika one of these days, in fact, he's hellbent on it.

More for Daishou's sake than anything else.

There's a stretch of silence where Daishou just stares down at the water below him, as if remembering all he'd left behind, and all they both held dear. They're a team now, Kuroo can already sense it before Daishou actually agrees.

With a reluctant sigh, Daishou throws his head back before fixing Tsukishima with a tired, but accepting stare. "Yeah, I'll help," he says, nodding as Tsukishima's own grin begins to grow. And, since he truly has no dignity left to lose: "Besides, what are friends for?"

Tsukishima's eyes widen comically at the final admission, one he didn't know he needed. Daishou tries to run away, but it's futile, and he slips in the puddle which surrounds them.

If Kuroo pushes Tsukishima into Daishou for a hug, well, they never have to speak of it again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated <3 I just...love Daishou so much guys lol. I want to write a prequel drabble with him and Tsukishima but we'll see! I'll be posting a small one shot this week as well so be on the lookout for that, and you should def check out /both/ twitters below for...reasons. 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)   
>  [Click if you love krtsk](https://twitter.com/kurotsukizine)


	14. find a way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay we got through the middle angst part! I'm actually baffled with how close I am to finishing this fic but also? it feels like there's still a lot to go pfft. This fic is already a monster and it's not stopping lol so thanks to everyone who's been reading, I really appreciate your support! 
> 
> Please give love to [Chiara Martinelli](https://chiaramartinelliart.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for doing the art for this chapter!

"So, let me get this right," Daishou says with a face full of freshly boiled crab from the market. He guesses having to fight his best friend meant he didn't feel like cooking, but Kuroo wishes he could've convinced him otherwise with how he's spraying his food all over the place. "You think the murders have something to do with  _us_? Isn't that a stretch?"

Kuroo leans back when Daishou spits on him (which is quite possibly on purpose), upset Tsukishima had already chose to retreat into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable. Daishou looks at him like he's a child, with the fakest patience Kuroo has ever seen.

Bitch.

And he doesn't even dislike Daishou anymore.

Kuroo smooths his hands over his hair, picking up the subtle rummaging from beyond Tsukishima's door. "It's more like a small hunch. Maybe someone besides Akiteru held a grudge against Kei for killing his father," he says, though the skepticism in Daishou's eyes isn't encouraging. He knows it's farfetched alright? But Kuroo's gut feelings aren't something he can ever take lightly. "You don't know what kind of allies a guy like that had."

At that, Daishou tilts his head in acknowledgement. The old chief was a real piece of shit. "Maybe, but it seems unlikely. You're forgetting, Kei and I were pretty much out of the public eye, and we didn't tell anyone where we were going. I can't think of someone going to all those lengths to track us."

Well, that's true. It would be one hell of a grudge, but Kuroo isn't casting it aside just yet. Something isn't right, though it would be nice for it to be just one big coincidence. That way, Tsukishima would stay safe, secret.

But none of them have been so lucky.

"It's just a possibility," he replies, and thankfully, Daishou leans back, giving in. The theory stays on the table, for now. "Either way, it wouldn't look bad for you two to find the killer. We could use it as leverage."

It's hard to justify banishment for people doing some public good. It doesn't even have to be a vigilante thing, if they just passed any information to the police...

He thinks of Akaashi and Bokuto, the only two cops who actually seemed genuine in their desire to help other waterbenders. Perhaps they could talk to them once they had more information.

"That's more like it," Daishou says, taking a long sip of the wine which seemingly popped out of nowhere. The waterbender's face winces a little then, flitting towards Tsukishima's closed door. "Though, what an awkward reunion."

At that, Kuroo smirks. Daishou's concern is well founded, but Kuroo can't let this opportunity pass up, not with what he knows now. "Maybe for Kei, but I'm sure your girlfriend misses you."

And as expected, Daishou nearly chokes on his drink, his entire face turning an embarrassed scarlet. It's preferable to the angry blush Kuroo is used to, and twice as entertaining. He's never seen someone so easily flustered.

Daishou glares at him like a cobra about to strike, but at this point Kuroo knows the threat is largely without promise. Daishou is a shit, but he has his soft spots.

Yamaka Mika is one.

" _Whatever_ ," Daishou hisses, nursing his empty cup between his two middle fingers. But as predicted, the ire on his face is as fragile and weak as Kuroo would expect when bringing up Mika. Daishou's face relaxes, the wrinkles in his forehead gradually lifting until his eyes are full of reluctant vulnerability. The normally sharp gaze is fond as it looks to the pile of mail nearest them, the remnants of opened letters still scattered atop the dark wood. "I miss her too."

Yeah, Kuroo can imagine. He wouldn't know what to do at this point with Tsukishima, and Daishou has gone months with only letters to keep him warm.

Not knowing what else to do, Kuroo extends his hand in a fist to the middle of the table, right in Daishou's field of view. Daishou doesn't seem like the physical comfort type, so Kuroo doesn't try. The gesture itself should encompass all of that, along with Kuroo words.

"You'll see her again." There's no doubt there. When Kuroo said he'd get them home, he meant it. At this point he's so invested he's not sure he'd be able to go on without making sure both Daishou and Tsukishima are happy.

With a squinty look, Daishou looks at him again, cogs turning in a way that’s almost comedic. Daishou really doesn't trust well, but Kuroo is flattered to be considered.

"You're dangerous you know that? No wonder Kei likes you so much, you make people  _hope_." Daishou clicks his tongue, tossing back the rest of his drink. "Disgusting."

"Thank you," Kuroo says, practically beaming; it's not exactly a compliment he ever thought he'd receive though. He's been so without hope for years, if anything, Tsukishima is the one giving him hope in...all walks of life.

Kuroo loves him so much it hurts, and their future has been on his mind quite a bit. It's ridiculous though, and not at all the right time. For now...

"You're right about the police making a connection to us though, good thing the police force is an absolute mess," Daishou says with a huff. Right, murder mystery first.

And Daishou has no idea. It's easy for the police force to risk everything preying on waterbenders, and as a result, the rest of the infrastructure has been a mess.

Take the hall of records...

"Not to mention your files weren't exactly organized," Kuroo sighs, trying to not look at Daishou as he recalls the incident. He's since filled Daishou in on how he found out, but...he's kept out some details, even from Tsukishima. If he's lucky, no one will find those files now. In a stupid split second decision, before Kuroo even knew Tsukishima's past or innocence, he'd moved his and Daishou's files to a completely old and unrelated section, somewhere it'll take them forever to find even if they do go looking.

Never say Kuroo isn't ride or die.

And besides, he knows they'll start looking soon. The murders themselves have pretty much halted, now the news reports are full of vague threats and letters sent to the police station, or graffiti on major public buildings.

The killer doesn't want to be forgotten, but why stop killing? Kuroo can't wrap his head around it.

"You've overlooked something though," Daishou interrupts his thoughts, and the steely eyed expression has Kuroo listening with all ears. The waterbender doesn't bother keeping his voice hushed, he's being rational. "No offense to Kei, but he might as well be fighting with three broken limbs as long as he has that chip on. Not exactly smart to go serial killer hunting with that thing on. It's loud too..."

Oh, Kuroo is all too aware of that problem, and he's been trying to figure out a solution. It has to be metal plated, maybe he could--

"And  _forget_  tampering, it'll just make us look worse if we get an infraction," Daishou scold, leaning forward. At this point, he has to know Kuroo's mind can lead him down dangerous paths. They can't risk mistakes. "Then we'll really be...fucked. Oh..."

Kuroo misses the turning of a doorknob behind him, the sound lost in the sea of his thoughts. Daishou's voice fading into awe is just another thing he overlooks. He can't help it, this is perhaps their most serious obstacle. "We need to find another way to get it off..." Plus, Daishou can't bloodbend. It would be one thing for Kuroo and him to work together, but to face a bloodbender, they need bloodbending. 

The silence answers him. No scoff, no agreement, and when he looks up, Daishou's glare isn't even there to tell Kuroo he's paying attention. Instead, those green-tinted eyes are wide and focused on the far wall, filled him some kind of emotion Kuroo can't place.

Pride maybe, relief?

The answer to Kuroo's thoughts come at the same time he manages to turn around and follow Daishou's line of sight.

"Then what are we waiting for?" The voice he adores replies to him easily, calm as the summer waters which the blond loves. Tsukishima leans against the tapestry ridden wall by his bedroom in all his regal glory, dressed in full Water Tribe garb.

Oh. Now he understands what Daishou is feeling, a surge of emotion rising in his own chest.

Tsukishima looks...perfect. Like himself; Kuroo always knew he would, but this is more than he expected. He's never seen Tsukishima so comfortable, so at home, so much like a waterbender.

A master.

This must be the outfit Mika had given him, the one he'd never dared to put on because of shame. To think that shame has been gradually worn away with Kuroo's help, with Daishou's acceptance...

With Tsukishima's strength.

 It's more than Kuroo can handle.

It suits him too. The ocean blue top hugs his skin tight, cut off at the shoulders to expose all of Tsukishima's hard-earned muscles. The armbands cover most of his forearms, a deep navy; Kuroo's favorite feature is the brown hide skirt around his waist, fixed in the center with small oxen horns. The skirt moves effortlessly with Tsukishima's movements over his pants, stopping just at the knee where dark sealskin boots take over.

Somehow, it's even more fitting to see him standing against the deep blues of the intricate tapestries, like he finally fits in with the rest of his house.

Kuroo couldn't be happier. And from Tsukishima's expression, calm and wistful, he must feel the same.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161125444@N06/32938113597/in/dateposted-public/)

Still, Kuroo is sure he's been listening. The blond stares off into the living room, not looking at them yet, and Kuroo can tell he's also as lost in thought as Kuroo. The high collar he's sporting hides his chip, but Tsukishima's hand comes up to rub at the sensitive skin, the only thing left to chain him down.

Kuroo swallows thickly, unable to do much else but feel so proud of his boyfriend. He's come so far, and they're so close. It's so unbelievably frustrating.

The sound of Daishou's light laugh has Tsukishima's eyes flying to the table.

"Much better," the other waterbender breathes out softly, a cough clearing his throat a second later. "But I can't exactly hate something Mika gave you."

Oh Daishou.

Any moron could tell how grateful he was; this was all he wanted after all, for Tsukishima to embrace himself, his culture, again.

Tsukishima doesn't take any offense to the poor excuse. His startled expression morphs into a reluctant fondness, his head tilting to show his appreciation. The two are still bad at being upfront with each other, but...they're learning.

Kuroo on the other hand, is not so shy.

"You're beautiful," he says, fawning openly, and Tsukishima's blush stands out even more now with all the blue. The blond looks down at his feet from the praise, but it doesn't stop his hand from reaching out for Kuroo's intertwining them gently.

Kuroo kisses his hand, and dammit, Tsukishima has no excuse for being this shy when he looks like  _that_.

The blond looks up at him with something playful in his eyes, and for a moment, Kuroo forgets they're not alone.

It's unfortunate when he receives a reminder.

"Ew." Daishou's statement is straight, clear, and to the point. Kuroo regrets going to get him.

In a small act of vengeance, Tsukishima takes some water from the air in a blink of an eye, like it's an everyday gesture, and flicks it right in the waterbender's face.

Daishou's sputtering is like music to Kuroo's ears.

Then Tsukishima is smiling again, albeit a bit more triumphant than before. However, it can't last, not when things are like this. His hand breaks from Kuroo's and returns to his neck, grimacing at the feeling of metal against it. "I'm almost back to normal now, except..."

His voice trails off, the reality too crushing given all he's gone through. It's a big 'except,' and Kuroo's heart clenches as if he were the one with the chip. But no, he knows Tsukishima struggles far more. He reaches out a hand to stroke Tsukishima's arm, the fabric of his armbands soft and well crafted. More evidence of people who care for him.

"We'll figure it out," Kuroo says, pulling Tsukishima down into a nearby chair. It's all he can do for now, aside from running out of the house and beginning their hunt right there and then. "I promise."

Tsukishima's smile is unsure, but it has just enough belief in Kuroo to keep him going.

Then, Daishou is wincing, and if he keeps breaking the moment like this Kuroo will definitely strangle him. "Yeah, but maybe not for a few days..."

At that, Tsukishima's eyes narrow, turning to his friend warily. "What do you mean?"

Daishou wipes the last of the water from his face, playing with his glass in a way that doesn't give Kuroo any comfort. He looks too guilty, too hesitant. Daishou smiles too, forced and fake before rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay so, I kinda forgot to tell you, y'know, since we were fighting and all? Thanks for that by the way..."

" _Daishou_."

The waterbender is quick to raise his hands, leaning forward in his haste to confess everything as concisely as he can. "Alright! So...the letter from Mika I got? Basically says uh...yourbrotheriscomingtoRepublicCity."

Kuroo can practically hear the violin strings of Tsukishima's life creak with how violently he tenses up. The blond's jaw drops, but Daishou keeps talking, hands drumming on the table nervously. After seeing Tsukishima's ghostly expression, he'd probably rather do that than live with the silence. "Apparently he's coming to give some weird solidarity speech for the community or whatever."

As stubborn and irritating as Daishou likes to be, Kuroo swears he cowers. Kuroo's only excuse for the waterbender is that he just got filled in, but still...

 _"What?"_ Tsukishima turns to Daishou fully, and Kuroo doesn't even care about losing the attention. "You mention this  _now_?"

"I was  _eating_."

If they weren't in his house, Daishou would be frozen in a pool of water by now.

Tsukishima groans, hands massaging his temples. "Speech? What the hell is he going to say anyways?"

"He had to do  _something_ , have you not been reading the Water Tribe papers?" Daishou offers, but at Tsukishima's startled silence, Daishou seems to infer the answer is no. Kuroo can't blame Tsukishima; if his brother had banished him, he'd avoid reading about him too. Plus, Akiteru is the new young chief, of course his face must be everywhere. "His poll numbers are tanking you know."

Tsukishima's anger dissipates in an instant. His eyes widen from the shock; Kuroo almost feels sorry. Despite everything, it's clear to him how much Tsukishima admired and loved his brother, still does. The instinctual need to protect him is still there, even after everything...

Tsukishima has so much love for him.

The blond's voice is small. "What? Why?"

Daishou's not stupid, he sees exactly what Kuroo does. The waterbender sighs, pitying Tsukishima with an apologetic look. "He's too removed from the situation, he made some statements about cooperating and supporting the police."

Tsukishima's face falls more so, his sigh long and troubled. They all know there's no real excuse for that besides ignorance. It seems to be a pattern for the chief. "Oh Akiteru..."

"Yeeeaah, he obviously doesn't know about the chips," Daishou says, looking more annoyed. He might've been a Water Tribe citizen, but his attachment to Akiteru isn't the same as Tsukishima's. In this realm, Daishou has clarity; he knows what happened was wrong. "But either way, it's not safe to be running around serial killer hunting with a foreign leader coming to visit."

"Increased security..." Kuroo muses, cursing their luck. Though, with everything that's happened, some time to recuperate and relax might not be such a bad thing.

If anything, Tsukishima needs it most.

Daishou regards Tsukishima with hesitation, debating on saying anything else.Those sharp eyes flick in Kuroo's direction, and Kuroo nods.

Tsukishima may not like it, but...he can handle it.

Daishou sighs, fixing Tsukishima with a no--nonsense look. Kuroo knows it's born from pure concern, but--

"Not to mention him finding out  _you're_  here," Daishou points out, and Kuroo tries not to wince. The waterbender isn't exactly good at his delivery. "He can make you a suspect."

Just like he made Tsukishima an exile.

Kuroo hates to admit it, but in this situation, Akiteru has the power. Just as he did that day in court, his word far outweighs theirs, especially Tsukishima's. And given what happened, it's clear Akiteru isn't willing to show Tsukishima any mercy.

Tsukishima's reaction is all too expected. He recoils in an instant, eyes flaring with the desire to argue, to vouch for his brother's goodwill in some way. "He wouldn't--"

"Oh no?" Daishou spits back, his own rage finally seeping through. He's not going to put up with it, and the sharpness of his words is comparable to a water whip. Tsukishima wasn't the only one wronged that day in the North. "Like how he wouldn't exile us and take your shitty father's side before yours?"

"Hey--" Kuroo tries, but Daishou's look slices him where he stands.

Tsukishima goes quiet in the worst way; not the usual calm, serene kind Kuroo is used to. The shock on his face is palpable, his heart trying to digest the truth.

And Daishou isn't willing to go easy on him anymore. Not to this degree. There's only so much he can take, but letting Tsukishima lie to himself? No.

No one wants that anymore.

Akiteru wronged him, cast him out. Surely, Tsukishima has to remember that deep down. No matter how much he loves him, there's no excuse for that.

Tsukishima's head stays downturned, eyes on the dusty floor. There's a war in his head, Kuroo knows it, but there's too much muck and grime to wade through on his own.

Sensing this, Daishou sighs, his voice lowering to something softer, but no less firm. "I'm not in the business of lying for him and you shouldn't be either," he says, or more like pleads. Tsukishima closes his eyes as the words sink in, and doesn't bother to look at Daishou again. "I'm right Kei, you know it."

 _Yeah_ , Kuroo thinks,  _he does_. But it doesn't make it any easier.

And without acknowledging the claim, Tsukishima's voice responds in a whisper, soft and small. "We...we should wait until he leaves."

Kuroo and Daishou both let out a held breath, and well, that's the best they're going to get for now.

Daishou knows he shouldn't push, so he doesn't. Instead, he takes his cup with him to his room, and Tsukishima's head doesn't rise until the other's steps fully fade.

Even then, Kuroo knows the confidence from before is long gone, lost in a sea of memories stained blue.

\--

On the eve of Akiteru's arrival, Tsukishima randomly whisks Kuroo off to a secluded park on the other side of the bay. The streets are abuzz with rumors and gossip about the chief's arrival, so needless to say, Kuroo is willing to go anywhere to get Tsukishima away from it.

The rain has let up for a few hours, evolving into a misty sprinkle which meets the fog along the horizon of the cityscape, and Kuroo imagines they're a pair of shadows running through it. Despite the lightness of the weather, they dress for the cold anyways, with Tsukishima throwing his Water Tribe parka over his new outfit. Again, Kuroo can't help feeling warm to see him so comfortable in his attire. Even the blond's tote is dyed the traditional blues and purples.

Kuroo doesn't need to ask why they're going to the park or what Tsukishima has in mind, he just knows he'd follow the blond anywhere as long as he kept holding his hand like this. On the way, Tsukishima bends the fog when he can, mindful of his chip and the noise it makes.

The last thing they want to do is be stopped by an officer.

When they pass the main police patrol zones, Tsukishima relaxes, leading Kuroo to a large clearing where he assumes trees will eventually be planted.

With the rain, new construction on the park has been almost impossible, leaving the plot vacant. The ground is nothing more than dirt and moss, and Kuroo regards Tsukishima soft smile with skepticism.

As much as he would've liked to take it easy, he's never one to say no to a little extra training. Especially when he's learning new techniques from an actual master. It's a privilege. He assumes that's what Tsukishima wants, to blow off some steam. They always practice in parks where no one can really bother them. Besides, it's the perfect weather for it.

Already, Kuroo is stretching. "Gonna teach me something new?" He's sure his voice gives away his own excitement, and Tsukishima's fond smile is enough proof for him to know the blond appreciates it.

But when his boyfriend giggles, Kuroo stops moving, confusion marring his features. Tsukishima saunters over to him, taking in his frame in that same, calculated way he always does.

It has something in Kuroo firing up in interest, but...he assumes Tsukishima would prefer to do that kind of stuff at home.

God. Why is Kuroo such an idiot.

As if reading his mind, Tsukishima snorts. "Not exactly," he says, pursing his lips as he looks at their feet. "Although...maybe you don't know how..."

Before Kuroo can ask, Tsukishima hands are moving the wisps of fog with slow, precise movements, his chip already starting to beep. Kuroo is grateful they're secluded, no one will be able to hear, but he's more concerned with the way the thin sheet of water begins to settle over the dirt like a blanket. Tsukishima takes a deep breath, blowing towards the ground while his fingers slowly close shut into a fist. The subtle formation of ice sounds like rocks sliding against each other, and Kuroo's eyes widen in awe as the dirt is transformed into a plain of solid ice.

Oh. He gets it now.

Tsukishima pulls back, satisfied with his work and a shy smile on his face. He pulls two sets of ice-skating blades from his pack, and Kuroo can only assume he brought them from the North when he came here. It's cute; Tsukishima had no way of knowing if he'd ever get to use them again, yet he still clung to them.

Explaining with actions instead of words, Tsukishima fits one of the blades to his boot sole and freezes it into place until it's steady, supporting his weight. It's obvious to Kuroo how hard he's trying to be calm, to hide his childish giddiness. The excitement leaking into his voice lifts Kuroo's spirits more than he believed possible. "I thought...well, I was getting bored cooped up and I used to do this with--"

Tsukishima stops, the smile faltering for a moment too long. The blade hits the ice and Tsukishima's eyes close, like he knows he's made a mistake.

 _Akiteru_.

Of course, they were brothers. They must've done this together all the time; Kuroo thinks about how many things have been bogged down by painful memories in his own life. Sometimes, even looking at a cookbook brings back those bittersweet moments, long summers spent with the windows open as he helped his grandmother in the kitchen.

A gust of wind picks up some of the bits of ice, and Tsukishima breathes the clean air in. "I used to do this as a kid."

Kuroo smiles; Tsukishima is strong in so many ways, even when he feels like he's not.

"We have rinks in Zaofu, but I've never been a fan of being unbalanced and falling on my ass," Kuroo laughs, handing Tsukishima the blades as he raises one foot after the other.

In no time, he has his own pair of skates, and he's hanging onto Tsukishima with a dangerous amount of instability.

He's lucky Tsukishima is tougher than he looks in the muscle department. The blond hoists him up with a twinkle in his eye, gradually setting Kuroo in a more stable position. It's awkward as fuck. Kuroo's legs are wobbly and turned in on each other, like he's close to pissing himself, and Tsukishima has to turn to resist laughing.

Kuroo still catches it as the blond takes his first step onto the ice, making it look as natural as walking. For him it might as well be. Kuroo has a suspicion Tsukishima will always prefer gliding on ice and water than any other form of stable earth. Kuroo can't relate.

The blond's smirk has Kuroo pouting. "You stubborn earthbenders..."

"It's a curse," Kuroo says with a shaky laugh, gradually walking to the edge of the makeshift ice rink. Then, he extends his hand, as he's done so many times. "Hold my hand?"

He doesn't know why he even asks, he knows the answer.

Tsukishima's hand fits so perfectly in his, the warmth of Kuroo's palm spreading to his like a wildfire that can't be dampened, even in the coldest weather.

He lets himself be led.

"Whoa..." Kuroo tenses up as his feet hit the ice, sliding against it, and the risk of slipping has never been more apparent in his mind. The word feels tilted on its axis, like soon he'll see nothing but sky. He imagines the impact, the icy bite against his back, and waits to fall.

He never does.

"I have you," Tsukishima whispers, pushing off from his own skates to bring Kuroo forward, closer. It's a clumsy dance they're sharing, one Kuroo wishes he could take charge of. But, well, this is nice. Having Tsukishima teach him new things is always nice, especially when he gets to hear the blond laugh so loud and openly.

Kuroo has to cherish those moments, because with all he's been through, one would think Tsukishima's will to laugh would be gone.

Kuroo smiles, soft and steady, unlike his feet. More than once, he lifts his feet as if to try to walk, only to knick the ice and nearly bring them both down.

Tsukishima snorts, twirling and maneuvering to support Kuroo's weight. It's hard, when all Kuroo does is chase after him. They glide dangerously like that for a while, with Tsukishima teasing him every chance he can. Kuroo has never felt this much like a baby fox antelope before, but he assumes even they're more coordinated than this.

But by some miracle, he never falls. Tsukishima won't allow it. He takes Kuroo with him wherever he goes, like a pro, and their hands never separate.

Eventually, Tsukishima settles in front of him again, like Kuroo is an overgrown child, legs kicking behind as he pushes Tsukishima forward. This is how children learn, he realizes, but he doesn't have a big enough ego to fight it.

Besides, he likes this angle. He likes seeing Tsukishima.

The blond's face is flushed from the workout Kuroo is giving him, made more apparent by his ice kissed skin and the fur around his hood. Clothes have never suited someone better. Tsukishima is a creature of the tundra, always has been, always will be, no matter where he roams.

Kuroo's own breathing is going haywire, his legs already tired from the new stretch, and the flush on his face is equal parts exhaustion and embarrassment. But it's all worth it.

"It's not so bad actually," he admits as they get into a rhythm, taking another loop around the large circle Tsukishima has made. The ice is cut up and carved at this point, with wisps of blade streaks imprinted onto it Kuroo can't help but search for shapes in. He could get used to this, the quiet, the gentle scuff of their blades against the ice as the wind carries through the park. 

Despite the fog, despite the problems they still face...

It all makes Kuroo feel so warm.

"You're a fast learner," Tsukishima says with a nod of appreciation, but when his grip on Kuroo's hand loosens, Kuroo grips twice as hard. He's not ready for that yet, fast learner be damned.

Plus, why would he want to let go?

"Damn right I am," Kuroo breathes out, regardless of the shakiness in his voice, in the way he clings so furiously. Tsukishima's smirk only grows. Kuroo knows how to fix that. "Though, maybe you're just a good teacher."

Kuroo's grin is smug as Tsukishima's smirk falls, overcome by a flustered scowl. Kuroo isn't lying either, and Tsukishima knows it. And the thing is, Tsukishima can't fight him on it, because--

"Well...I am a master," the blond huffs, mumbling under his breath, and Kuroo finds it so adorable he just might trip them up on purpose. His legs are like jelly.

"So? You're still susceptible to flattery," Kuroo teases, pulling Tsukishima closer. He thinks he's getting the hang of it. The feet movements are becoming less foreign, the gentle push and pause a pattern being slowly carved into his brain. He pulls Tsukishima in a new direction just to test it, and is delighted when they don't end up in a tangle of limbs on the ice.

The change is a little wonky, but Tsukishima corrects them with swift and smooth movements, taking Kuroo's direction.

Not overwhelming him, not steering him somewhere new. He lets Kuroo venture out, but if he messes up, he'll catch him.

Kuroo's grip tightens for a different reason. That thing he's been thinking about...

"You don't need to use flattery..." Tsukishima whispers, and Kuroo hears the words trapped beneath loud and clear.  _'I already love you.'_

And again, his heart is full, more alive and beating than it's ever been. Since Zaofu...

He never thought he'd feel so complete again, and yet, Tsukishima has made him believe that he's so much more. And even seeing Kuroo and knowing him at his lowest, the blond has loved him anyways.

Kuroo feels like himself again, with full clarity. But with that clarity, the realization of what he wants out of life has become more and more incessant. Nagging.

He can't keep it to himself anymore.

Kuroo swallows, his throat tight and gasping for air. Tsukishima had trusted him with a lot, a lot more than he needed to, and now Kuroo has the chance to do the same. He looks up at Tsukishima's calm face, eyes glued to where their hands meet, and the steady crush of ice beneath their feet somehow gives Kuroo's voice courage. No matter how small it is, there's no way Tsukishima won't hear it out here.

"I'm sure I'll get better at it you know," Kuroo says, and Tsukishima's eyes flash up to him. Kuroo emphasizes his point with a sharp turn, and he's again relieved he's still standing. Tsukishima laughs gently, humming an affirmative.

"So you want to do this again?" Tsukishima asks, eyes playful as he arches a brow.

Kuroo feels his palms sweat. "Well yeah, I'm sure we will. Maybe even in the North! Since uh, I figure when all this blows over and I get you back home--"

"Kuroo," Tsukishima sighs, and Kuroo hates to see his face lose some of its light.

"And I  _will_  get you back home," he continues, not in the mood to argue. He believes in himself, in them, with all his soul. He won't let anything keep Tsukishima from where he belongs, and where Tsukishima belongs...

That's where Kuroo is supposed to be too. With how much they love each other, he gets that maybe it should just be assumed, but...

They've never talked about it, they're never confirmed it.

They'd never had the hope to.

But Kuroo knows how much those small confessions and affirmations mean to Tsukishima, and how much he needs them, whether the blond will admit it or not.

He takes a deep breath. "And when I  _do_ , I wouldn't mind...moving to the Water Tribe."

The words pour out like the winter breeze, quick and sudden. But they're out, and Kuroo regrets nothing. Or, he doesn't, until Tsukishima halts abruptly mid stride.

The blond's eyes widen like he's been hit, and Kuroo's mind takes the reaction and runs with it.

Kuroo has never been good at shutting up, but this is something so important, the anxiety makes his mouth blabber twice as much.

It's a nightmare.

They're stopped in the middle of the frozen rink now, and Tsukishima is just  _staring_  at him, why is he just staring?? "It--It was really pretty when we went to the South and even though I know it's different, you seem to think highly of it and I trust you! I don't...really have an attachment to Republic City or Zaofu anyways." Admitting it aloud isn't as hard as Kuroo thought, but it does hit him like a refreshing bucket of water down his back on a hot day. He never thought it would make him so happy to admit he's been wandering, but finding Tsukishima has been so eye opening. He has nothing holding him back.

Tsukishima blinks, and wow Kuroo should really shut up. The blond's eyes mist over by the second, collecting moisture which can't be blamed on anything else but Kuroo's words. He hopes it's a good thing, but he's so used to disappointment. As he babbles, the excitement in his voice tapers off, fading into a sad, reluctant mumble. "And I don't think I'll be a proper citizen unless I can ice skate, I have to prove myself somehow as a non-waterbender and everything...I mean, I guess. Of course, if--if you don't want me to come...it's--it's fine I just--"

Kuroo's back hits the ice, and he thinks it should be a lot more painful than it is. It's freezing, spreading through his coat, but none of it matter when Tsukishima's lips are on his.

They're cold, but Kuroo can help to fix that. He chases the kiss even as Tsukishima deepens it, never having enough. The doubts from before melt into a puddle, and he wraps his arms around Tsukishima's waist, laughing into the kiss.

It's just funny to him, how everything about Tsukishima seems to center around the ice and tundra. It's fitting this would happen here, especially when that's where they'll spend the rest of their lives.

In the North.

Tsukishima breaks away with a gasping breath, and it's torture to not capture his lips again. Kissing Tsukishima is something Kuroo is sure will never get old. The blond looks down at him, disbelief clear in his desperate eyes, the ones which expect nothing but sadness. Kuroo feels his own eyes collect water.

"You really want to come?" Tsukishima whispers in awe, and Kuroo would scoff if he weren't so damn emotional. As if Tsukishima has to ask something so silly.

The answer has been clear since the earliest days, probably from the moment Tsukishima stepping over Asahi's stand in the market.

"I want to be wherever you are," Kuroo says, with no ounce of hesitation. He cups Tsukishima's face with his gloved hand, running it through his shaggy bangs. He burns the moment into his mind, promises to never forget the way Tsukishima is looking at him now. "I'll be happy anywhere as long as I get to build my life with you."

And what a life it'll be, free from pain, from betrayal. Kuroo will make sure of it.

Tsukishima shuts his eyes tight to will the tears away, and collapses on top of Kuroo in an adorable heap of joy.

Kuroo laughs at the suddenness of it, feeling Tsukishima's weight press into him.

"So what do you say?" He asks with a small nudge. "Think I'll make a good Water Tribe citizen?"

It's something he's genuinely unsure about, but...Tsukishima will show him the ropes. He has a feeling no one embodies the tribe more than the blond, in his own way.

Tsukishima raises his head, eyes still teary, but with a faux skepticism dancing in them. Kuroo loves him, so much.

"I think, with some work, you'll be fine," Tsukishima says after some time, lips pursed, and the playfulness doesn't go unnoticed. Kuroo pouts, and Tsukishima's smile graces his features against his will.

They're both completely unrestrained, and Kuroo has never felt more grateful for that.

"Fine?" He asks, as if offended.

But Tsukishima doesn't keep; he shrugs, smiling down at Kuroo like he's home already. "Perfect even."

Kuroo pulls him down again, and keeps him there, cold be damned. Tsukishima can handle it, and Kuroo is going to have to learn to.

He's happy to.

He brings his hand up to where the bottom curls of Tsukishima's hair touch his neck, stroking along the sensitive skin with care. Like that, looking up at the overcast sky, he makes his last confession. "I'm going to make you a real betrothal necklace too. Just for you, and no one else."

And Tsukishima will never have to take it off.

Tsukishima lets out something which sounds suspiciously like a sniffle mixed with a laugh, squeezing Kuroo impossibly tighter. "I...I'll be expecting it then," he whispers, letting the fog swallow them up as the sounds of the afternoon turn into evening.

They stay like that, they stay far longer than they should and then they stay some more, and Kuroo has never felt more ready to fight for their future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated <3 Big thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over! I'm almost done with the next chapter so stay tuned for more soon! 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


	15. the lighthouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I'm back! Another shorter-ish chapter just to get the ball rolling, but we're actually very close to the end of this fic ffff I still can't believe it! I'm very excited for next chapter tho so stay tuned ;)
> 
> Big thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

_"To my fellow waterbenders, I leave a message of endurance. Despite what the ignorant may say, it is the criminal and the criminal alone who has shamed the Water Tribes. I trust that with the diligent work of the police and the cooperation of the public, the perpetrator of these heinous murders will be brought to justice. Thank you."_

A hundred bulb flashes go off, and the crowd in the background erupts into a cacophony of questions and murmurs. Akiteru has graced the city with his presence, but the comfort he hoped to provide is gone.

There's no announcer to drown out the chaos; Kuroo hears it all, unfiltered through the tiny radio in Tsukishima's house.

He's glad he's not there, Tsukishima wouldn't have been able to handle it. It was too dangerous anyways...

But hearing it...hearing it is just as bad.

Kuroo can see it, Akiteru on the podium in the city square, eyes wide as the uproar of political and civil rights journalists fire inquiry after inquiry at him. The North is bustling and thriving, but it's nothing compared to Republic City, and Akiteru is a new chief.

Hearing him stutter through questions about things he has no knowledge of is quite brutal.

_"Tsukishima-san, are you aware of the constant threats to city hall from the killer?"_

_"What is your response to the lack of leads from the police?"_

There's a pause as they wait, the cameras flashing every few seconds. The pictures will look good at least, though Kuroo can't help but be a little upset. All of downtown is decorated in Northern colors to honor the arrival of Akiteru, yet it just seems tainted. Tsukishima hadn’t even wanted to go check it out beforehand.

Akiteru clears his throat over the static and repeated questions, and Kuroo looks across the room to see Daishou's hand curled tightly around the arm of the couch.

Tsukishima's back is to them, but Kuroo knows he's listening, watching the steady rain fall outside.

_"I...I'm unaware of the police's findings but I do trust they are doing everything in their power to catch the--"_

_"So do you support the use of the anti-bending chips?"_

_"The--what?"_

At that point, Kuroo can't take it anymore. He flips off the radio with a frustrated sigh, and no one makes a move to start a discussion. The little home sits in a sea of tension while the rain batters the rooftop, and the sound of Tsukishima dropping a dish in the sink makes them all jump.

Needless to say, Akiteru's speech will receive mixed reviews. Even as Kuroo listened to the falsehoods, he couldn't stop himself from cringing every now and again. On the surface, Akiteru is all a chief needs to be. Loud, stern, with a kind disposition, the hopeful words flowing like brooks in the spring.

He has all that, but it's not enough here, for the words he spouts are only founded in ignorance.

Kuroo has never heard someone so unaware of the complexities of a situation in his life.

The diligence of the police?

Endurance?

The Water Tribe people have  _been_  enduring, and it's been way more heartache than they've deserved.

With a simmering rage settling into his bones, Kuroo rubs his temples, not knowing where to go from here.

For him, it doesn't change the situation. Akiteru is not a threat, but he's also not helpful. There's no way he's going to be understanding of their pleas, even if they do find the killer. Whatever, Kuroo expected that. In fact, it makes it easier for his heart to manage.

This is his love's brother, but from Kuroo, he'll get no sympathy.

The problem is, he can't say the same for Tsukishima.

As he looks over to the blond, all he can see is a sigh run through him, the muscles straining themselves to relax. It's hard for him, he knows, but at a certain point he will have to face facts.

Akiteru isn't looking out for him anymore, he's not the star older brother he used to be.

When Kuroo turns his tired eyes on Daishou, the waterbender's gaze is digging into him, communicating nothing but a mutual understanding.

"Three days for that shit?" Daishou spits out, rising from his seat to pace the floor. Akiteru's stay was short, with the first two days being a mix of meetings and public appearances, and the public address stalled until today. Even with all the briefing he must've gone through, he still managed to make things worse.

Kuroo's foot taps nervously on the floor. The theory in his head is farfetched, practically fiction, but...

He knows a gut feeling, he can tell when it's not just paranoia.

He's just not sure if he can break Tsukishima heart like this.

Across the room, the blond finally turns, his hands resting stiffly on the counter. Already, it's the posture of someone about to make excuses. Kuroo really didn't want to hear another argument between these two, but-- "Of course he doesn't know anything about the chips," Tsukishima scoffs, and Daishou listens carefully. The sound of his footsteps halting echoes. "Our father never did fill him in on anything that didn't relate to our tribe."

"That's no excuse," Daishou laughs. The edge to it has Tsukishima straightening up, the heat in his eyes flaring. "He should've known better, he should've done his research. He's supposed to be fighting for  _our_  people--"

Tsukishima shakes his head, pushing himself off of the counter until the only thing which separates them is the couch. Their eyes burn, the most hot-headed waterbenders Kuroo has ever known.

But this time Daishou's eyes are sad; he's tired of hurting Tsukishima too, of doing this.

But Tsukishima won't stop  _fighting_. "He's always only been about our people! I don't understand why he's being so stupid, but he's trained for years and--"

"Oh? Is that why he took the side of the police? Why he's telling us to not worry like everything is perfect and fine!" Daishou says, pleading for reason. "Just because we don't live at the poles doesn't mean waterbenders here deserve less attention. You know that!"

"Of course I know that!" Tsukishima replies, desperate. He's been living among the dockworkers and shipyards, he's seen it all. From the start, he's heard the horrible things people say about waterbenders. He's seen what almost happened to Daishou, and the pain he's gone through. Tsukishima cares so much. But Tsukishima is more full of love than he realizes, even with his temper and jaded past. It's his brother, but his brother...doesn't view him as one. His brother is wrong about... _everything_.

He's been kept in the dark, not just from his father's teachings either. Kuroo believes, more than anything, that it's partly because he has no choice. His own ass is on the line. The words are on the tip of his tongue even as the shouting match continues, but Kuroo's throat feels too tight, too choked up.

Yet, he listens as Tsukishima still tries. "He's  _brainwashed_ \--"

"Then he's not fit to lead!" Daishou claims, throwing up his hands, and Tsukishima chokes on a reply. His eyes fly to the ground as he searches for something, anything to prove that Akiteru is more than what he seems; what he's turned into.

Is it wrong for Kuroo to shatter those illusions? He doesn't think so, but it feels like it.

But he can't take it for one more second.

With a heavy heart he looks at his beloved, and whispers what he hopes is true. "I think Akiteru knows."

_I would bet my life he does._

Both waterbenders pause, and they turn to him like the winds been knocked out of them. Tsukishima's eyes tremble in surprise, and Kuroo hates that face. so lost.

Yet, Daishou doesn't look surprised at all; Kuroo can tell he already had many of the same unrealistic thoughts. Or maybe he was waiting for Kuroo's support, he doesn't know.

They've both been too afraid to cross into that territory.

Daishou sighs, bowing his head. It doesn't make it easier to handle, and Kuroo's heart breaks a little when Tsukishima breathes out his question. "What?"

Kuroo takes a deep breath and steadies himself. "I said I think Akiteru knows...that you're here. I think he's always known. Him or...someone close to him."

Tsukishima is so baffled he doesn't speak. He braces himself against the counter as he waits, looking at Kuroo likes he's giving him a chance to take it back, to make more sense. Kuroo wishes it could be that way.

Kuroo approaches him slowly, as if anything more would spook him back to his room. "He's been holding a grudge, you can see that right?" He tries, appealing to the logic which has always won over in Tsukishima's head. All except for when it comes to this. "In the way he banished you, how he gave you that chip. I don't think... _anything_  would be enough for him after the pain you caused. The delusions he has..."

 _You killed his idol, his father._ Something like that cannot be forgiven with a simple exile. The Water Tribes are a community, it's what they're known for. They protect their own.

"You're wrong."

"C'mon Kei, think about it," Daishou says, immune to Tsukishima's cutting words. Kuroo is glad someone is. "The killer decides to stop sending letters to the cops the three days your brother is here?"

Tsukishima flinches, eyes still fixed somewhere neither of them can reach. "You don't know--"

"I don't?" Daishou says, softer this time. He rifles through the piles of papers and letters on their coffee table until he finds the latest issue, with Akiteru's proud face plastered all over the front of it. Tsukishima doesn't take it when Daishou holds it towards him. "You should read the paper more. Your brother might be front page, but the investigation updates are still there. There's been nothing. No attacks, no threats."

Tsukishima's eyes widen, and he rips the paper from Daishou's hands. The waterbender doesn't seem to mind as he watches the blond thumb through the paper rapidly.

Kuroo's already read it. When Tsukishima's eyes hit the crime reports, they see the change in his face.

"He can't have anything making him look bad," Daishou scoffs. "Funny, since he's doing a great job managing that on his own."

"I don't understand," Tsukishima whispers, and Kuroo's shoulder droop more. He wants to take Tsukishima's hand, but he waits. He wants it to sink in.

"Yes you do," he says, and he takes a hesitant step forward. "I mean...you heard your brother. He was surprised there were no leads, Kei."

Tsukishima spins it back on him in an instant. " _Everyone_  is surprised there aren't more leads, the police are a joke--"

"It's because he knows that if they find out  _you're_  here, if they find  _your_  file, everything will get pinned on you!" Kuroo says, pleading. He doesn't know if what he's saying makes any sense, and he knows his hunches have been wrong, but he  _feels_  this one. He's so afraid of what could've happened without him even realizing, or  _believing_. "If I hadn't found it first...if the police had actually done their job like Akiteru mistakenly thought they would, who knows where you'd be..."

"It would all line up," Daishou adds, arms crossed. The pieces are fitting together in his head too. All the coincidences, too small to sense from the start. "Us, the murders back home. The connections are there, the evidence. Who's to say we wouldn't just continue our reign of terror here? It's easy to believe, and then your brother would never have to worry about you again--"

Tsukishima's eyes narrow, and he tosses the paper down, scattering the floor with old news he couldn't stomach. "Akiteru isn't a vengeful person and you know it!"

"I don't know anything about him anymore," Daishou laughs. "Neither do  _you_. You don't know what he's capable of, what mistakes he's made. If he orchestrated the scandal and it comes back to him, his life is over. He wants them to find  _you_ \--"

"No--"

"Because you fit the bill."

"Stop it both of you!" Tsukishima claps his hands over his head with an aggravated grunt. "Even if...even if all that were true, he'd be stupid to pin it on me! He chipped me, how the hell would I perform the murders with a chip?"

"He took the risk," Kuroo says. Tsukishima lowers his hands and looks at him, and it hurts how much Tsukishima actually gives him. All his attention and trust, even when Kuroo is telling him things he really does not want to hear. "A master could kill someone in thirty seconds."

Tsukishima doesn't try to argue that. He knows it's true, and the time it would take to recharge the chip's time limit? If no one witnessed the murder itself, the killer could've taken all the time in the world to skin the body. "And besides, by the fourth murder, the police were itching to arrest someone."

Anyone.

And they're twice as desperate now. If they knew about Tsukishima? Someone who fit the situation almost perfectly? There'd be no fair trial or waiting, everyone would make the assumption.

"And then when you're locked up and the murders and threats stop, it'll just be the nail in the coffin."

The statement sits in the air and doesn't dissolve for anything. All the while, Tsukishima shakes his head. "He wouldn't, he would never! Akiteru  _can't_  bloodbend," Tsukishima claims with a scoff. "He fainted when I broke my leg as a kid!"

Well, there's the other thing. Kuroo never thought Akiteru performed the murders himself; no leader can get away with being absent from his nation without being questioned or noticed. Thing is, Kuroo never had the theory to back that portion of his hunch.

But, now he has Daishou.

"Kei, your brother is the chief of the North. He has people who can do it for him, people...sworn to secrecy! Just like your father had," Daishou says, and his own eyes widen, like he hadn't thought of it before. "Holy crap, the royal guard! No one keeps tabs on them!"

With every answer, Tsukishima's stubbornness is chipped away until he's shaking his head, searching for another way out. Kuroo's theory isn't without flaws, or speculation, but there's enough there to make Tsukishima wonder, to make him  _see_.

Even if he hates it. "Akiteru would--could never do something like that...."

It makes Kuroo dislike Akiteru that much more. As if the lies and the potential murders weren’t enough, there’s the banishment too. All that is awful and heinous in its own way, but destroying this image of a loving brother in Tsukishima's mind...

It's not forgivable. None of it is, every awful little part.

"Maybe it got out of hand," Kuroo whispers; it's the only thing he can offer. Even if Akiteru is still a good person in some way, if he wanted the best...odds are he messed up. Kuroo watches as Tsukishima leans against the kitchen cabinets before sliding down, unable to make sense of it any longer.

And Kuroo is right there to meet him. He gets down on Tsukishima's level, hand on his knee, and Tsukishima leans towards the touch. It's subtle, but Kuroo notices everything, and is glad to be an anchor. It's difficult when his words serve to drag Tsukishima down though, and he has to tell himself it's for Tsukishima's own good. "Love, I know you care about your brother but... _you're_  my first priority. And I can't help but feel like something's not right about him. You have to see the connections, even if they are unbelievable."

And if they're hard to swallow now, then Kuroo will just have to find the evidence he needs to back himself up. Even as confident as he feels, he'd give anything to be wrong.

Tsukishima swallows, but he bows his head. It's not a nod, by no means an acceptance, but it's something. It's a willingness to entertain the idea.

Kuroo sighs. "The waterbending community here is so tight knit, I just don't believe anyone from the city is responsible for this, I  _feel_  it. The murders started in the first few weeks of your arrival."

It can't all be coincidence. At a certain point, they have to start looking at it as planned, known.

With no response, Kuroo squeezes, grateful for the way Tsukishima's hand comes up to grip his. He’s steadying himself; Tsukishima still trusts Kuroo to do that much. "Kei?"

The blond takes a deep breath, frustrated and drowned out. "E-Even if any of that is true, there's no way we're going to prove it," he says with a hopeless awareness in his voice. A startled noise escapes Daishou's throat, the beginnings of a protest which never come to fruition. Just like Tsukishima, he thinks of the worst case scenario. "Akiteru has the power now, he'll have alibis, he'll have people who will take the fall for him."

Then, Tsukishima looks at Daishou, as if he's the only one who will understand this aspect of their situation. Just like Daishou is really the only one who truly understands the type of man Tsukishima's father was, from every angle. "If it's my brother, we've already lost."

And despite himself, Daishou hesitates, as if part of him does believe everything Tsukishima is saying. Why would he not? An everyday citizen of the Water Tribe, a nation who values their community and the traditions of their tribe, Daishou would know everything about the strength of the chief. Akiteru isn't just a leader, but a symbol and representative. People will take his side, no question about it.

But despite that fear he's always been aware of, Daishou helped Tsukishima anyways, and has continued to fight against every obstacle. In fact, he's become something of a rebel. Kuroo can't help but fondly remember their first, irritable meeting, and Daishou's attitude towards the police.

Regardless of his pleas for them to lay low, and his cynicism, Daishou has never been afraid to challenge the limits of authority. Kuroo is almost sure he doesn't believe those limits exist anymore, not when it comes to what's right for the people he cares about.

Though, when it comes to everyone else...

Kuroo doesn't doubt Daishou would leave those people in the dust, and at this point, Kuroo respects it. He needs it too, to provide that extra layer of confidence Tsukishima has yet to break through when it comes to his brother.

The other waterbender smirks slowly, meeting Tsukishima's glare head on. "No we haven't," he says, oh so sure, and Kuroo can feel himself smile too. "And don't you give me that look. I know you don't believe any of it either. You hate losing, you'd rather die. It's pretty annoying actually."

Daishou smiles sardonically, a long sigh escaping his lips. Memories of lost sparring matches are a lot less irritating than they used to be. "You just need to stop protecting people who don't deserve it."

Tsukishima's expression startles, and he looks at Kuroo, who can only shrug. "He has a point."

By now, Tsukishima should know how well they understand him, how fond they are of him, but Kuroo guesses it'll never stop being a shock. There's no way in hell Tsukishima will ever be able to convince them he's weak, or that he has no chance.

It's simply not in Tsukishima's nature.

And with that realization, Tsukishima's shoulders lose the coils of tension keeping them up, another piece of brick wall chipped away.

Daishou smiles to himself, satisfied. Mostly. "Kei's right about one thing though," he adds, looking at Kuroo with confusion. "Where the hell are we supposed to get proof?"

Tsukishima glances at him too, waiting for an answer.

And for once, Kuroo doesn't feel like wincing. It's a shot in the dark, but it's worth trying. At this point, any new information is welcome. And he's pretty sure there are some metalbenders who would be happy to help.

"I think...I know some guys."

\--

Downtown is not Kuroo's favorite place to be; it's crawling with cops and rude tourists, not to mention people who don't know how to drive and more smog than he can handle. Being close to the docks was always a blessing, sweeping away the pollution with a biting coastal breeze and offering an escape, should he ever need one, out to the great beyond.

Seeing Daishou and Tsukishima's expressions as they lean against the alley wall tells him they feel the same. Their garb doesn't exactly make them blend into the crowd these days, even in the rain. They'd gotten a few stares from patrolling police, but luckily, no actual questioning.

Kuroo thanks the rain this time around.

It didn't stop people from looking at them constantly, the attention exhausting and not helpful Tsukishima's grimace is no less adorable, and it's about the fifth time Kuroo’s been caught checking him out. He just looks so good in the traditional Water Tribe wear okay?

At the attention, Tsukishima lifts his head towards him again, face softening with a fond annoyance. He likes the staring, Kuroo knows he does.

At least when it's from him.

"Hey," Daishou says suddenly, pushing himself off the grimy wall. His eyes stay locked on the end of the alley, head tilting and body poised for the slightest sign of trouble. "That him?"

Kuroo squints beyond the heavy veil of rainfall around them. Down the row, he can see the outline of someone briskly walking towards them, becoming more defined as the seconds pass. He hears Tsukishima shift behind him, nerves on high alert, but Kuroo recognizes the straight, confident posture.

Even when doing something so risky, Akaashi is as confident as ever. He comes into view just a few feet in front of them, face framed by a dense raincoat and police cap. Akaashi makes the 'drowned rat' look so much more comfortable, but Kuroo doesn't have time to ask why that is.

From the sheen of excitement in the cop's eyes, Kuroo can chalk it all up to him simply being a strange one.

"Glad you came," Kuroo breathes out, relieved even as Akaashi's beady eyes get impossibly narrow. The rain drips down his cheeks and stain the front of his collar, but either the officer doesn't mind the chill or is too set on the task at hand to notice.

"You know I could get fired for doing this right?" He says, fixing Kuroo to the spot. His eyes scan over the two waterbenders behind him, but there's no prejudice or mistrust present. Their tense posture disappears.

Akaashi shouldn't be helping, but he is. That's enough.

"So you must really have faith in us is what you're saying?" Kuroo laughs, and yeah alright, he mostly wants his theory validated.

That's too much to ask for though, and...yeah, not surprised. Akaashi's eyebrows shoot up, head tilting as if to say 'really?'

Kuroo can't help but sigh before the words are even out.

"I don't know about all  _that_ ," Akaashi had said, but he hadn't exactly refuted any of Kuroo's claims when they talked over the radio. It gives Kuroo hope, if only just a little. "But there is something weird going on, and I've long since stopped trusting most of my colleagues on this case."

Kuroo perks up, looking behind him at Tsukishima's worried expression. The blond and Daishou walk forward, joining them in their tight knit circle. It's still something Tsukishima is adjusting to, but...if Akaashi can give them more evidence of Akiteru's involvement, it'll make Tsukishima feel less torn in two.

At this point, Kuroo wants to ease his pain as much as possible, though if he's correct...

It'll be nearly impossible.

Akaashi sighs to himself, massaging his temple. "Quite frankly, your theory is something I would read in the  _Republic City Inquirer."_

Kuroo winces.

It's one thing to be a tabloid, but a tabloid all the other tabloids think is shitty? Spirits help him.

Bless their souls, Daishou and Tsukishima just blink in confusion at each other. Guess they haven't been in the city long enough to get the reference.

Hah.

"Is--is that not good?" Daishou asks.

And without missing a beat, both Akaashi and Kuroo respond, one weaker and sadder than the other. "No."

Then, Akaashi gives Kuroo hope. His voice drops an octave, almost unintelligible under the crash of rainwater, but they all pick it up loud and clear. Tsukishima fixates on any mention of his tribe, of his brother. "But...when the chief of the North came, he seemed...jumpy, you know when you can tell someone is expecting something? Looking for it everywhere they go?"

"Yes," Tsukishima whispers, his eyes turning towards the ground. It's not the usual lost, conflicted look. Kuroo knows when that mind is working, and how brilliant and dangerous it can be.

Akaashi huffs, as if he still is making sense of it. "I was one of the officers in the motorcade. At one point, I sat in the same car," he continues, eyes turning to Tsukishima. "Your brother is terrible at hiding his emotions, and I've never seen anxiety like that over a few public speeches. It never made sense to me, at first I chalked it up to being the stress of the ordeal itself but...I've been a cop for a while. I know the difference."

And judging from the way Tsukishima's eyes narrow, Kuroo knows he believes it.

"I don't know how much help the evidence will be though," Akaashi sighs, and Daishou speaks up, pacing the confined space between them.

"Where is this partner of yours? I don't want to be spotted," he says with annoyance, but it's obvious there's fear there. Daishou has had a close call with the police before. The longer he's here, the more nerve wracking it gets.

"He should be here soon," Akaashi turns down the small alley scoping it out. "He might be easy going on his own, but when it comes to the job, he's nothing but business."

"We trust you," Kuroo affirms, and Daishou rolls his eyes. It takes Tsukishima punching him in the shoulder to get him to stop pacing.

"You're making everyone more nervous," Tsukishima whispers with a click of his tongue.

"I can't help it! There are cops everywhere down here." Daishou's eyes dart behind him at the brick wall, as if officers would somehow emerge from it. Tsukishima's hand comes up to strike him again, but instead his fists stays resting against Daishou's upper arm in a gesture only the waterbender seems to get.

Daishou's eyes soften, but the fear is still there. Tsukishima's eyes are more like a firebender's, alive and confident. "We can take anything thrown at us. Stop worrying."

And like that, Daishou deflates like a toddler, kicking at the muddy ground. Kuroo smiles when Tsukishima turns to him with exasperation, and squeezes his hand.

Tsukishima might be the strongest, but he needs support too. Kuroo sees that more than anyone.

"Here he comes," Akaashi says, still peering down the dark alley, and they all face forward in tense anticipation. The footsteps they hear are loud, much heavier than Akaashi's, the puddles sloshing as the figure gets closer.

A fond huff leaves Akaashi's lips, barely detectable, before his larger than life partner is in front of them. Damn, Kuroo forgot how  _jacked_  this guy is.

Even Tsukishima and Daishou's eyes widen a little more, suddenly twice as awake as before. Bokuto's hair is covered by his cap, but Kuroo can tell the ends are drenched, the result of being out in this mess. He also isn't wearing a coat, something which Akaashi seems to notice with dissatisfaction.

They're the perfect pair, in Kuroo's eyes. Intimidating together and individually in their own ways, not the kind to mess with.

He's grateful they're on the right side of things.

"I got it," Bokuto pants out, probably having run from the evidence room without being followed. He takes off his cap, running his hand through his colored hair as he pulls out a singular plastic baggy from his slacks. "Wasn't hard. No one seems to think it's useful."

Confused at Akaashi's apologetic look of 'I told you,' Kuroo grabs the bag in a frenzy, ignoring Bokuto's yelp. Tsukishima and Daishou crowd around him, equally thrown from the lightness of the item. They go silent, and Kuroo doesn't yet understand they know something he doesn't.

It looks like a betrothal necklace, but...not. The deep purples and blue trade off in stripes around the sides of the thick fabric. It's expensive, custom crafted from the looks of it. The middle pendant is a weird rework of the Water Tribe insignia, carved into marble, and Kuroo is at a loss. " _This_  was the only evidence found at the site of the fourth body."

"A Water Tribe necklace," Daishou says, and Tsukishima grabs the bag gently, bringing it up to his face. It's like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"A Water Tribe  _royalty_  necklace, see the pendant?" He asks, shoving it towards Daishou, who looks it over with the same lost confusion. However, it's different from Kuroo's; they know exactly what it is, they just don't understand why it's there.

"That's the old mark of the chief's children, right?" Daishou asks Tsukishima, tracing over the intricate carving on the pendant.

"Yeah, see how it's a little different?" He lets Kuroo have it again, his lithe fingers pointing at the details in the marble. The dots almost look like stars behind the Water Tribe symbol, the sides of the circle lined with pillars. "Those background markings were only used for royalty like…hundreds of years ago. They're all over stuff in our museums, but it's so old school no one wears them anymore. I never did. Neither did my brother  _or_  father."

What? How the--

Kuroo holds the bag in his hands weakly, staring at Tsukishima as the cogs in their brains turn. What does this mean? The necklace was in impeccable condition too, yet no one in the current royal family wears them, according to Tsukishima...

"No one knows about them either, so thanks for the info," Akaashi says, taking the bag back. There's a new fire in his eyes, the kind one gets when they've just solved another piece of a difficult puzzle. "We couldn't do anything with it because no one knew what it was. There was also no blood on it, no name on the back. it's in such good condition. It's almost like it's--"

"New?" Tsukishima asks with a huff, arms lifting at his sides.  _Planted_.

It all makes sense to Kuroo in that moment.

"If Akiteru thought you'd be an easy suspect," Daishou begins, eyes trained on the necklace, "finding the insignia of the royal family at a crime scene would've just been more evidence against you."

Already, Kuroo can see the weight of the claim hit Tsukishima, the blood in his veins boiling. He goes quiet, and the rain might be the only thing keeping him sane. The blond's hands tremble at his sides, and...it's not the moment of realization Kuroo would've liked, but he'll take it.

Daishou's face darkens as well, shaking his head at just how far Akiteru or his goons have gone. Maybe part of him had hoped they'd be wrong too.

Even if it's a small shred of evidence, and although they're still so far from proving anything concrete...Kuroo feels this in his bones. He's right.

With a sneer, Kuroo stares at the bag in Akaashi's hands. "Yeah, too bad the cops were too ignorant to figure that shit out themselves," Kuroo says, the headache growing stronger. At his words, his stomach drops, and he looks back at the two officers with a sheepish smile. "No offense."

"None taken," Akaashi says with a smile, and Bokuto looks even happier. They might not be able to do much with the new revelation in their own investigation without the risk of incriminating Tsukishima, but just seeing the mystery slowly come into light is enough of them. Kuroo doesn't think he's ever met better cops.

Bokuto pouts then, grabbing the baggy from Akaashi's hands and stuffing it back into his pocket. "We're sorry we can't do more for you. We have to go soon, if this is gone for too long someone will eventually notice."

In such a high-profile case, Kuroo wouldn't be shocked.

Before he can open his mouth, Tsukishima's voice is in the air around them, turning all their heads. It's somber, quiet, but Kuroo is pretty sure it gives them all shivers.

"No, this…this helped a lot," Tsukishima says, bowing his head at Bokuto and Akaashi. "Thank you both."

Akaashi's face softens, and he places a hand on Tsukishima's trembling shoulder, probably understanding all too well the urge to seek out the killer. With a squeeze, Akaashi pulls away, nodding once in a wish of good luck to them all.

"Be careful out there, and for all our sakes, I sure hope you're right." At that, Tsukishima looks back at Kuroo, fully trusting. That alone tells Kuroo he can't let them down.

Akaashi and Bokuto fix their caps on tight, Akaashi pulling his hood around his face as they turn back towards the crowded street. "If not, it's back to square one."

And as they disappear into the water, Kuroo tells himself that's not an option.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, comments are always appreciated! ALSO PLEASE PLEASE CHECK OUT [THIS DOODLE](https://twitter.com/chukishima/status/1131278658902081536) MY FRIEND DID FOR ME OF TSUKKI IN HIS WATER TRIBE OUTFIT AHHH HE'S SO CUTE!!!!!
> 
> This fic is almost my longest fic ever and just....thank you so much all of you!!! You readers keep me going ; ; See you soon!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)  
> Also I think it's okay to finally post [the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/si43myb7jufk2z14cmork0pwk/playlist/0xqI3XSp4fkTNPCOk3XnuZ?si=U29vH6ClTv2ky1VYWbpYow) for this fic bc most of the twists have happened and it doesn't give much away! These are the songs I write to when it comes to this fic, and they all correspond (for the most part) to specific relationships/characters!


	16. rise up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooo we're so close to the end! This is officially my longest fic ever since it passed Shaking in My Skull, so I honestly can't believe it. I care about this fic so much and hope you all enjoy the rest of it! Thank you for following me on this journey, I can't wait to write the last few chapters! 
> 
> Big thanks to [EmeraldWaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves) for reading this over!

"We're not breaking into Oikawa Tooru's house," Tsukishima states, firm and without room for questioning. Unfortunately, he's dealing with Daishou and Kuroo, who don't really take no for an answer. "I don't even think that's possible. It's an  _estate_."

They're sitting on the edge of the docks as new loads of fish get brought into the harbor (for some reason, Daishou finds it calming, Kuroo just can't get past the smell). Daishou kicks his legs out as he mulls over Tsukishima's words with no intent of actually listening to him. "Breaking in he says! It’s more like… _trespassing_. Don't make it more than it is."

Kuroo is sad to say he's on the waterbender's side, but not without reason.

"We have no chance either way," Tsukishima huffs, eyeing the murky water with consideration. Splashing Daishou is a very real option.

Kuroo sighs before it can escalate that far. "Kei, Oikawa is probably the only one outside of the police who can get that chip off," Kuroo says, and at the mere mention of it, Tsukishima's hand flies up to his neck. It hurts Kuroo's heart every time, but at least Tsukishima's pout is cute. "If we're going to confront Akiteru, you'll need to be at full power."

At this point, they don't know what Akiteru is capable of. Either way, Kuroo doesn't feel comfortable pulling Tsukishima into danger when he only has a thirty second time limit. Kuroo will protect him with everything he has, but when the stakes are this high...

Kuroo assumes Tsukishima wants to flex his own muscles a little.

"I know," the blond snaps in frustration, his face softening a second later. The tension in his shoulders leaves him a bit; Kuroo doesn't take offense and grabs Tsukishima's hand as his fingers let go of the pier's edge. Tsukishima shakes his head, his grip tightening around Kuroo. "I know. But I'm worried. Oikawa could just as easily tell the police about us, and then we'll never get a chance to find out more."

Daishou stays silent on Kuroo's left, looking out at the vast ocean beyond them. If they ever go home, this would be their point of departure. He can't imagine how great the temptation is; with the hope Kuroo has given Daishou, the snow of the North is probably so close he can feel it melt against his tongue.

Breaking into Oikawa's estate risks that hope, that chance.

They all know it, but that doesn't mean it can't be an option. It has to be.

"We're not getting much else done like this," Kuroo reminds him, and Tsukishima closes his eyes, the truth hard to argue against.

"Don't forget, Ushijima is the Southern Tribe's representative," Daishou says, the tip of his boot sloshing in the water below. It moves unnaturally, rolling and traveling like a water cobra, a nervous tick Kuroo supposes. "It would be good to get him on our side. You know as well as I do Southern waterbenders are getting it worse, and Ushijima has been pretty loud about condemning the police. I'm sure he'd love to have a suspect."

It's obvious he's addressing Tsukishima, but Kuroo knows the rough history between the North and the South. They're independent allies now sure, but a legacy of civil wars and mistrust is still there. For a long time, the South was poorer and more likely to be overlooked, no wonder Ushijima would be so committed to protecting his people.

It works in their favor. Ushijima has more reason to believe them than not, though if it is Akiteru...

Kuroo just hopes they can find enough proof to not cause any doubt in the public eye, they don't need more strife between the nations.

"He has power to help us if we need it too," Kuroo throws in, and Tsukishima clicks his tongue.

"You're both being way too optimistic..."

"But?" Daishou sings, like he knows they've already won. They both know Tsukishima in different ways, but especially when it comes to breaking down his walls. The stubbornness fades away gradually, and while Kuroo feels a little guilty for it, he's proud to be able to get through to Tsukishima this way.

At least Tsukishima's annoyance isn't directed at him. The blond playfully flicks his wrist, a mini wave disturbing Daishou's water ripples, and the other waterbender looks way too offended.

Tsukishima smirks; it was well worth the harsh beeping of his chip.

" _But_ , there's no other way to get this chip off, and no other way to talk to them. Ushijima's legal channels are probably backed up to hell and Oikawa isn't doing public appearances to protest the use of his chips..."

"Always knew the guy couldn't be all bad," Daishou snarks, and Kuroo has to agree. He never had an issue with the inventor before, if anything, he thought he was a bit vain. His opinion has gone way up in the midst of this crisis.

Tsukishima purses his lips, still sitting on the cliff's edge of his decision. Kuroo admires him for being so cautious, but at a certain point, it won't be an option anymore. If Kuroo is right, Akiteru had thrown caution completely out the window because of his bitterness.

The difference is Tsukishima would never hold this kind of grudge against his brother, he'd never seek such violent revenge. And more so, he'd always take things into his own hands.

It's why Kuroo will truly follow him everywhere.

"I have a good feeling about this Kei," Kuroo says, refusing to let go of his boyfriend's hand. Daishou doesn't even comment on how gross they are; his gaze leaves the horizon in a true show of self-control, and doesn't rush his friend in the slightest. "We need to try."

It's all they can do; and yeah, maybe Kuroo is too optimistic, but with Tsukishima is involved, he can't help but think everything will work out in the end. It would be too cruel for that to not be the case; Tsukishima has suffered too much, grown in so many ways. Through every high and low, he's still clawing his way past all the dirt and blood, if only to find his way back to the pure white snow he adores.

Maybe the same thought crosses the blond's mind in the same moment; his hand reaches up to his neck again, feeling the thin metal chip, and he knows deep in his heart it was never meant to be there.

When Tsukishima finally looks at them, the sea in the background, his eyes hold no more fear. "I know."

\--

The Oikawa Estate is not something which should be able to exist in a bustling city, even on its outskirts. The estate spans acres of guesthouses and gardens lined with training plots and old pieces of Oikawa's forgotten inventions. It's like a mini museum, with plaques and statues in the garden to commemorate the inventor's achievements.

The shrubbery of the estate is carved up in stone paths, the biggest road leading to the main house, completely custom and probably filled with more rooms than two people need.

Okay, vain is still correct, but it's not like Oikawa hasn't earned it.

The main gate shines blue and white, paying tribute to his husband's Water Tribe heritage, complete with the hanging drums and totems. All that's missing is the snow.

The symbols of the moon and ocean spirits are carved on the sides, the Water Tribe emblem in the center shining in solid gold.

Alright, maybe not so vain. Loving, at the very least.

Still, it's a problem when said gate is lined with rows of patrolling guards, and none of the guards take any breaks. Already, Kuroo is praying parts of the far walls are metal.

_That_  he can bend...

"This is ridiculous, we're going to die," Tsukishima whisper-yells as they look down on the estate from the nearby hill. Yeah, perhaps.

Not to mention they don't have a plan. Break in, stay hidden, talk to Oikawa and Ushijima. As if they'll be willing to simply talk to them.

Again, not much of a choice.

"Mm I might have to agree, but no going back now," Daishou adds, and at least he's committed. Tsukishima glares at him, stress heightened, and Kuroo understands. Kuroo and Daishou have their bending, if Tsukishima uses his, they'll be found immediately.

Calmly as he can manage, he puts a hand on Tsukishima's back, steering him along the trees which line the estate's edge. If they get far enough down the fence, they should be able to find a good spot...

"I can get us in, come on," Kuroo says, slowly inching his way towards a secluded part of the far gate. His fingers itch to touch the smooth material, and he prays it's metal, and not something so refined it will refuse to bend to his will.

His other hand somehow finds Tsukishima's, and he's pretty sure that's where all his confidence is coming from.

If there's anyone out there who can make him believe in himself, it's Tsukishima.

As they walk, the trees sway subtly, and it takes Kuroo a minute to realize how unnatural it is. It's not a breezy day, despite the drab weather, yet the trees move towards them all at once, shielding them from view.

He turns his head back to see Daishou's arms moving fluidly as he steps behind them, rotating his body in slow, rhythmic movements. Kuroo has seen the motions before, in the way Tsukishima bends water or the way dock workers mimic waves.

Yet there's no water here; the forest continues to move, all at once, precise and slow enough to not be immediately suspicious.

Kuroo squints while Tsukishima smiles to himself, and then realizes that no, Daishou did not just become an airbender. He's bending the water in the trees.

And he's doing a damn good job of it.

The pockets of air above them become shaded in leaves and evergreen, like they exist solely in the shadows, not even the new news blimps would be able to pick them up, Kuroo thinks.

"Wow," he can't stop himself from breathing out, and Tsukishima nods in agreement. There's a certain amount of pride there, admiration too; Tsukishima knows skilled bending when he sees it.

But contrary to what Kuroo expects, Daishou's cheeks fire up with embarrassment, and there's not a brag to be found as he keeps his eyes focused on the trees. He lowers his head in humble submission, his favorite name leaving his lips. "Mika taught me."

He gives credit where credit is due, and Kuroo promises to bring what he knows to the table as well. Daishou might not be a master like his girlfriend or Tsukishima, but he's learning, and Kuroo has a feeling he takes it just as seriously deep down.

With a nod, Kuroo leads the two forward until his hand rests flat against the main wall of the estate. It's cold, and tough, but most importantly...

Thank the spirits, it's metal.

He breathes a sigh of relief, and rests both palms against it. Now there's just one more problem...

Slowly, he curls his fingers in, dragging them across the wall as if to crinkle it like paper. It does, easily. Kuroo isn't that rusty.

However, his ability isn't the problem, it's the deafening screech of the metal layers dragging against each other. Even the slightest movement sends the strain echoing into the trees behind them, even with Daishou's manipulations. The breeze isn't enough.

They all wince and Kuroo stops, letting the silence return. He waits for a shout, for the sound of footsteps beating against the ground. The noise of him bending is by no means slight.

It's enough to attract attention, and they've barely even begun.

Tsukishima steps forward with worried eyes, only to remember he's essentially in the same predicament. The sound of his chip is a factor, but Daishou...

He and Tsukishima seem to have the same thought as they exchange looks, but Daishou nibbles on his bottom lip with concern. The trees stop their movement as Daishou does, and the sudden quiet is unsettling. "I'm...not sure how quiet I can be," Daishou confesses, looking quite peeved about it.

At least he's honest.

Still, it doesn't help.

"I can weaken it with ice, I think," Daishou adds before looking at Kuroo. "But you'll still have to do most of the work."

And that means noise. No matter what they do, it means noise.

Kuroo sighs; looking at the wall, he knows it'll take at least a few seconds of the ear crunching sound for him to successfully make an opening.

"Yeah, the trees aren't enough to cover that," Kuroo mumbles.

"But maybe they're enough to cover this," Tsukishima says, pointing to his chip with disdain. "It's not as loud as your bending, let me try."

They don't have much choice. Plus, when Tsukishima looks that sure of himself, no one argues. Kuroo nods, squeezing Tsukishima's hand one last time before letting go.

Tsukishima turns to Daishou next as he takes a deep breath, eyes full of trust. "Keep making noise though, yeah?"

"You got it." Daishou wipes the sheen layer of sweat from his forehead with complaint, and then his arms are moving again with concentration. Kuroo wishes he could help in the same way, but he focuses on giving both waterbenders space for the time being.

With a sigh, Tsukishima faces the wall, his stance firm. Everyday, Kuroo feels like he notices new things about how Tsukishima approaches every move, every method. The patience there is something Daishou has an inkling of already, but no doubt takes years to cultivate.

Kuroo respects them both more than he'll ever be able to say.

Tsukishima arches his back as he breathes in, holding the air for a second; his arms, adorned in blue, stretch out in front of him as he bends them, centering them on the weak part of the wall. His eyes hold nothing but focus, and for what Kuroo understands to be a simple move.

Then again, they're on a time limit, and Tsukishima knows it.

In a split second, the ringing begins.

Tsukishima breathes out, and it instantly crystalizes into ice. He pushes the frosty air forward with his hands as delicately as he can given how rushed he's moving, the beeping getting louder. Twenty seconds.

But it's more than enough; the ice expands as Tsukishima's hands spread out over the part of the wall Kuroo damaged, spreading until almost the entire panel is covered.

Tsukishima's hands snap into fists, and Kuroo realizes he wasn't breathing. The ice on the wall solidifies, the crackle lost in the rush of the trees behind them, and Tsukishima's hands slice downwards just as his chip alerts him of the eight second mark.

The wall falls, and Tsukishima's chip stops. The only sound is Tsukishima's gasp as he realizes none of them accounted for this part, for the tumbling of the wall itself, but Kuroo is right there to save them.

As soon as the metal is in shards, he stops them in midair just before they hit the ground and sets them down gently. The trees remain the loudest thing around them, and they all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Alright, step one done. Not too bad.

Daishou lets his hands fall in a dramatic show of exhaustion. "I can't take this kind of stress, I had a big breakfast."

Kuroo barely hears though; Tsukishima stares straight ahead into the garden paths, the beginning of a journey back home, though it doesn't seem like it. There's hope in Tsukishima's eyes again, and Kuroo can't do anything but stare at the blond with all the love he has.

"Amazing," he says, because there's no use holding it back. The words hit Tsukishima, and for someone so confident, he sure lets Kuroo's compliments get to him. Kuroo loves it. The waterbender blinks at him, curling into himself shyly as he messes with the sleeve of his parka,

"Well, you helped a lot."

Kuroo feels pride bloom in his chest so fierce he might explode.

But then, he remembers where they are. He’s forced to.

"Why do you guys always do this in front of me?" Daishou interrupts before Kuroo can respond, and... right. Daishou. "Also  _I_  helped too, you're welcome." 

"We do it because it bothers you," Tsukishima sighs, smirking at Kuroo in a way that makes his heart flutter.

It's the truth though.

Daishou groans as Tsukishima takes his first hurried steps onto the estate, back into the mindset of gaining as much ground as possible.

In his heart, he knows this is it, their best chance of getting any type of advantage over Akiteru. They have to be careful, they have to be completely aware of their surroundings.

At least, that's what he thought.

Kuroo expected them to run into...something. He won't lie, when he had this day in his head, he figured he'd be on his knees sleuthing, or digging tunnels underground just to avoid being seen.

He's on high alert from the moment he steps onto the estate, only to find that it's almost completely devoid of human life.

The gardens are a decent size, with shrubbery and sculptures laying all about. Many are elegant, hand crafted pieces, obviously Water Tribe in origin. Others are messier, not even sculptures, but the discarded parts of failed and unfinished inventions of Oikawa's.

What Kuroo initially assumed to be servant quarters are nothing more than locked sheds and workhouses; there's even a small farmhouse with chickens.

Anyways, some of Kuroo's suspicions are confirmed: he's never met a weirder fucking couple.

They make it all the way to the main path, and at this point, they just look dumb for hiding. Their footsteps echo from how quiet it is; the guards are too far away to be heard, and as far as they know, no one else is on the estate.

Uh...

"Why is this place so empty?" Daishou hisses, crouching behind a bush. It makes them all look sort of like jackasses. "Shouldn't a famous inventor have more security than this?"

While Daishou does have a point, Oikawa's enemies come in the form of competing corporations and CEOs. All the backstabbing happens in the open, from a sales perspective.

There are guards at the front gate, and Oikawa lives far enough from the city to avoid riff raff. And with the fighting skills and arrogance the non-bender has, well, Kuroo wouldn't be surprised if the inventor didn't worry much for his own safety.

"I think we got past it most of it at the front," Tsukishima says, voicing Kuroo's suspicions. "Still..."

"It's creepy," Daishou mumbles, stepping out from behind the shrub as they continue walking down the path.

It feels too easy.

"Well, Ushijima has never been flashy," Kuroo mutters, trying to find any way to explain the eeriness of the estate. He knows the couple travels a lot but damn, they don't have any friends who come over? "Maybe Oikawa doesn't have many...acquaintances."

"Point taken."

"I wouldn't either if I had all that money," Daishou says, and Kuroo squints hard into the distance.

It makes no sense but the fact it came out of Daishou's mouth is not at all surprising.

"I don't know," Tsukishima's voice cuts through the bickering, ever the serious one. It puts Kuroo on high alert; Tsukishima's eyes scan the garden as if there's something hidden. They cross over under a set of large arches, beautifully lined with moonflowers, and Kuroo shudders. The need to make excuses flares up. "I think it has more to do with the press firestorm. A lot of ignorant people blame officials for the murders, Ushijima especially."

The doubled security is evidence of that.

"Idiots," Daishou scoffs, but it's understandable. Maybe Oikawa simply had enough of people falsely protesting his husband. Radio silence is an effective tactic.

Kuroo knows they're home though, that's the thing. They're not abroad, and they've shut out the press. So where are they?

The main house comes into view in all its splendor; the arches are almost Zaofu-like in nature, woven intricately into a gothic fashion. There's a pointed tower and deep-set windows to top it off, but the colors stop the house from being something out of a horror movie. Splashes of vibrant gold and teal on the accents bring it to life, with just enough wackiness to make it feel...alive somehow. Cared for.

In the back of his head, he shakes away the thought that he and Tsukishima's future home could look something like this, though he much prefers the traditional silver.

As Kuroo looks up into the windows, he sees nor senses any movement. How can that be? Lifting up his foot, he rids his sole of the metal plate to expose his bare skin, slamming it on the path curiously.

The tremors echo back to him, and there's nothing but trees on the surrounding ground. Nothing that feels like people...

He looks up as they get closer to the static home; the cobbled steps are almost too inviting for Kuroo's tastes, but before they can reach them, they hear Tsukishima stop in his tracks behind them.

Daishou is the first to turn, he knows to trust Tsukishima's instincts. The wind rustles around them naturally, without the help of bending, but there's no chirping of animals or birds in the vast garden.

The blond squints out at the clear expanse of land, then back at the house. Sculptures line the home as well, curved and twisted in ways Kuroo doesn't see the beauty in. He figures rich people must simply be weird, but Tsukishima stares at them for a second too long, a bit too skeptical.

They're like monuments, shadowed, and some of them don't even look like rock. Maybe metal, but more refined, platinum--

"Kei?" Kuroo calls out as the suspicion hits him, his body too high strung for him to connect the dots.

Tsukishima doesn't allow the hesitation. His body spins towards Daishou, the one closest to the sculptures, and Kuroo watches as he takes the first step forward. "Something's not right. Let's--"

His sprint stops before he can lift his other foot, struck by shock, and the blur in the corner of Kuroo's eye is the only warning he gets.

A fist connects with the center of Daishou's shoulder before he can so much as conjure up a water whip; the first hit seems to happen in slow motion. A strangled gasp leaves Daishou's lips as he curls forward, and the rest happens in quick, practiced succession. One, two, three precise hits to length of Daishou's back, and he's down. There isn't even time for him to react, to attempt to bend at all, and Oikawa steps into view over Daishou's paralyzed body.

Oikawa's not surprised. In fact, he just looks pissed. The sneer is one Kuroo has seen a thousand times in magazines and news publications, but he's got to say, having it directed at him is a lot different. He's never felt so small.

Daishou grunts below Oikawa's feet, twitching in an effort to do something, anything.

Oikawa huffs as a cruel smile takes over his face, his large hands stretching out like taking Daishou down was nothing more than a workout. "I'm all in favor of security teams, but sometimes we just have to deal with things ourselves huh?"

_We?_

Before they have a chance to make their case, Tsukishima is running towards Daishou, body on autopilot. The plan is going off the rails before Kuroo's eyes, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"Hey wait!" He steps forward uselessly, but his raised hands do nothing for him. Oikawa ducks, his sharp gaze flying to Tsukishima. Kuroo doesn't have time to talk, or even look at the ensuing struggle. There's a reason Oikawa felt so comfortable ignoring him.

Something hits the ground behind him, seemingly from out of nowhere, and he knows in an instant that he was right. Those structures  _were_ platinum, perfect for hiding behind. 

Kuroo reacts; all he can think of is protecting them.

He barely moves out of the way as Ushijima swings a club at his face, the handle coming up to Kuroo's eye level as he backs away. All he sees is blue, and that's enough to tell him the thing is Water Tribe.

He shouldn't be so surprised, but he really wishes it wasn't the case. Those things are made from stone and polar bear femur, and they  _hurt_. Kuroo's instincts take over; he shoots out a coil from behind his back, wrapping it around the club's end until he and Ushijima are deadlocked.

Only then does he realize how huge Ushijima is. He's barely taller than Kuroo, but it feels like he towers over him, a force of pure muscle and strength, and the look in his eyes...

Well, Kuroo knows how it feels to protect what he loves, and right then, Ushijima is ready to murder anyone within the mere vicinity of Oikawa.

Kuroo has to keep his grip, his life depends on it.

Kuroo grunts as he sweeps another coil out, the sharp screech mixing with the sound of Tsukishima's chip joining the cacophony.

Kuroo's eyes widen as the coil wraps around Ushijima's knee, pinning him there, and he chances a look at Tsukishima.

Daishou's legs kick out just in time to trip Oikawa, and Tsukishima jumps back, ripping water from the nearby plants. The breaking of branches is sickly, the water harvested until the trees are no more. It's all for show though, an intimidation tactic to keep Oikawa at a distance.

Tsukishima can't do it forever.

Every ten seconds, the chime rings louder, faster, and the fear in the blond's eyes is palpable. "Wait, please, we're not here to--"

But Oikawa's not listening, not fully. Those brown eyes fixate intensely on the chip he knows is on Tsukishima neck, and Kuroo sees a flicker of guilt cross his features. "I...I don't care why you're here. B-But my husband isn't to blame for what's happening! We don't support the police, I never..."

Then, the sympathy is gone. Oikawa growls, and the ruthlessness of the inventor is back, along with the clenched fists and the knowledge to use them. "I won't let you have him!"

Kuroo has never had his chi blocked, but he doesn't really want to start now.

He calls out in a strained voice as Tsukishima's wall of water falls to the ground, Ushijima pulling against him. Kuroo's feet slip. "Please, that's not why we're here--"

"You missed your chance to talk when you broke into our home," Ushijima says, clear as day, and his deep voice sounds almost judicial in its tone; sentencing them to their fate. Ushijima uses his full strength to propel Kuroo forward, head-butting him before Kuroo can do anything to stop it.

The pain is immediate, searing. He reels back, hitting one of the sculptures as his coils come undone, and Ushijima charges at him.

At that point, he's fighting blind, sending out plates of metal from his armbands in a frenzy. Ushijima dodges all of them.

He's not so worried about himself though, not when he hears Tsukishima's voice. And then, there's another set of footsteps running towards him, lighter, intent on one thing and one thing alone: protection. "Tetsurou!"

Kuroo wants to tell him not to, to make him stay far away, to watch his own back, but his voice catches in his throat when Ushijima's large hand finds its way around his neck.

"Wait!" Tsukishima's panicked voice calls out, and Kuroo never wants to hear it again. It's painful, a high-pitched screech, and his eyes finally fly open to see Oikawa reach Tsukishima. "We know who did it--we know who--"

Kuroo sees Oikawa's eyes widen, but it's too late. His fist connects with Tsukishima's side as Kuroo begins to lose the air in his lungs, the heaviness taking over.

There's the harsh thump of a few more strikes against skin and bone, and then the thump of a body on the ground, but as much as Kuroo struggles desperately to call out, the world turns black. Any sound he dreamed of making is swallowed by the darkness, and like every other time his body caves to sleep, the last thing he sees in his mind is Tsukishima.

\--

It's a very deja vu kind of feeling.

Why is it whenever he gets knocked out by something, he's always awakened by hushed voices.

Kuroo would be a lot more annoyed at the disruption and the migraine if one of the voices didn't belong to the center of Kuroo's world.

When he hears Tsukishima speak, Kuroo remembers everything. His eyes snap open too fast as he lurches upwards, the quick movement making his vision spin. He groans from how his head swims in a haze of confusion, and notes how he can't move his hands. They're tied along with his feet, and with good, old-fashioned rope.

Great.

"Fuck..."

"Oh here we go," another voice, huffy and loud, enters the mix, and there's a great deal of shuffling around him. When Kuroo finally opens his eyes, he wishes he hadn't. Oikawa Tooru's very pinched,  _very_  pissed off face is right in front of his own, close enough for Kuroo to feel his breath against his cheek.

It's not dignified in any way, but he screams regardless, falling back against the wall he's against.

"You're lucky my husband is so generous, or you'd be in prison already!" Oikawa shrieks, but Kuroo is too busy thanking the spirits. Tsukishima and Daishou are right next to him, looking about as comfortable as he is, but they're  _safe_.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Unfortunately, his happiness is short lived.

Outside of battle, Oikawa's voice is loud and intense in all the wrong ways, and Kuroo winces at how close he still is,  _like c'mon..._

"Tooru, please," Ushijima says quietly, a lot more subdued as he pulls his husband back. Shockingly, Oikawa complies, pouting as he takes a seat on a nearby chair. The caged animal look is gone from Ushijima's eyes, but Kuroo can't help but still be fearful. Some things he can't unsee.

But the politeness and poise of a diplomat is back, though the club is still in his hand...

"Please nothing, they broke into our house," Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms. " _And_  they've made me pay for more security! What do you want with them?"

Yeah...what  _does_  he want with them? After that terrible first meeting, Kuroo is shocked they're not down at the police station already. Despite his disbelief, he's thankful. This gives them a chance...

Calmly, Ushijima takes a seat in his own chair, scooting up to the three of them. His eyes fall to Daishou and Tsukishima, and the silence is unnerving. There's a reason Ushijima does what he does; his mere presence is commanding, powerful. Daishou and Tsukishima both shrink under it; this isn't just an official to them, or the husband of a famous inventor. Ushijima is a member of their community, if anyone should understand them, it's him.

Ushijima's eyes lock with Tsukishima's after he takes in their Water Tribe garb, and Tsukishima last words echo in Kuroo's head.

_"We know who did it."_

"I want...something I hope they can give," Ushijima replies calmly as he leans back. Reaching into his side pocket, he takes out a pile of miscellaneous things. It only takes Kuroo a few seconds to realize it's whatever they had in their pockets. Including gum, which, wow...low. But more importantly...

Ushijima unfolds a weathered piece of paper, revealing a detailed sketch of the Water Tribe necklace Akaashi had shown them. Kuroo's eyes widen.

"Why do you have this?" Ushijima asks, as if he knows...

"It's evidence from the police station," Daishou interrupts, and Tsukishima and Kuroo both look to him for an explanation. He tilts his head towards them both. "I thought it would help our case, and we didn't have a picture... That necklace was found with the last murder victim, we got it from the evidence locker."

"You actually thought to sketch it?" Tsukishima asks, smiling from the disbelief. Even Kuroo is impressed; they hadn't thought of that.

"Hey! I'm not  _dumb_ , besides even snobby Shirabu thought I was a good artist back in school."

"Not sure he would agree with that."

_"What is it?_ " Oikawa grits out harshly, and Ushijima's brow furrows as he stares at it. It is detailed, and Kuroo has never been more thankful for Daishou.

"It's an old style of betrothal necklace from the North," Ushijima says, raising his brow at Tsukishima and Daishou for confirmation. "It used to be worn by the royal family. This one is quite new."

"That's right," Tsukishima affirms. "We found some officers willing to help us, but that's all they had collected from the last murder site. We think it was planted."

Ushijima and Oikawa both exchange a look, and Kuroo knows it all too well. They're trying to decide how much they want to listen, whether or not it's worth it. After all, who are these people who just broke into their house? Why trust them?

"Please," Tsukishima whispers, and it's not everyday he's so pleading. It's taking a lot out of him, out of his pride, and Kuroo knows it. That just proves how important his home is to him. All eyes are on the blond as he speaks. "We're not here to hurt you, we just need your help."

Oikawa sighs as Ushijima stares at them, as if he can see something they can't about his husband. Of course he can. Those eyes narrow as Ushijima sits back, staring at the picture. "Wakatoshi...don't you dare."

"It's the best lead we've had in a long time," the official says, not heeding the warning.

"Yeah and probably an unsupported one. They could've  _killed_  you."

"But they didn't."

With each reply, Kuroo can see Oikawa's skin redden, the anger stewing. In fact, he swears the brunet's glasses are starting to fog up. "That's  _not_  a good argument. Why would someone leave a royalty necklace at the scene of a murder?"

"We would tell you if you listened," Daishou mutters, and Kuroo has to admit the guy's got balls. Oikawa's narrowed eyes flash to him with fury unparalleled. "Oh, I'm sure you'd love t--"

But Oikawa's insults never land. In a movement as fluid and fast as water, Ushijima slides forward, homing in on Tsukishima. The blond meets the gaze head on.

Oikawa's anger dies in his throat, deflating like a balloon. "Uh...Wakatoshi?"

"You look familiar," the official states, and Tsukishima tenses. They all should've known; Ushijima is known for being the observant type. He tilts his head, the cogs in his mind obviously working to piece the puzzle together without Tsukishima's help. Funny enough, the first thing he says is: "It's the eyes."

Kuroo snorts a laugh; even with all the bad blood between them, it's hard to completely eradicate family ties when they're so apparent. For most people, the connection between Akiteru and his little brother would never be made, but Ushijima is weirdly perceptive about the most random things.

_"Kei."_ Daishou's warning goes ignored, at this point...they're losing more by hiding. If they're going to take a risk, now is the time.

Tsukishima bites his lip, closing his eyes with a sigh. He knows it just as much as Kuroo, it's now or never. "I'm...Tsukishima Akiteru's brother."

Ushijima's face doesn't flinch, but an unrestrained squawk leaves Oikawa's mouth.

Daishou looks too pleased about it.

Ushijima hums thoughtfully as his husband processes it, staring at Tsukishima as if nothing else matters. It's a silent judgement, a call only Ushijima can make.

But sometimes it's impossible to not believe someone like Tsukishima, someone whose eyes shine with truth and longing.

"The Northern Chief?!" Oikawa asks, wringing his hair with his hands. Kuroo almost feels bad for him, his day just got a lot more complicated. "Yeah righ-- _Hey_! What are you doing?!"

But Ushijima doesn't stop; without further hesitation, he reaches behind Tsukishima's back to undo the tight knots around his wrists. He moves on to the rest of them shortly after, and okay...Kuroo is just as shocked as Oikawa at this point.

The brunet's jaw might as well be on the floor, and Daishou keeps looking at Tsukishima for confirmation this is real.

Oikawa is poised to fight, fists clenched, but none of them move a muscle. Though Kuroo is thankful for the freedom to move again, even he wouldn't be  _that_  trusting in this situation.

But...he guesses the tabloids are right. Ushijima Wakatoshi is an enigma of a man.

"I want to hear what they have to say," Ushijima offers as his only explanation to his husband, and... _is that just how it works with him?_ Okay. Ushijima speaks directly to Oikawa, trying to make him see it his way, and Oikawa actually listens with open ears, no interrupting. "Tooru, the last I heard, the chief's brother had run away. If he's here, that means there's a reason."

And just like that Oikawa's features soften.

Tsukishima huffs with as much amusement as he can manage. He knew his brother must've made up some silly lie about where he went, but it's another thing to hear it from someone else. "There's a lot more to it than that, trust me."

For the first time, Ushijima smiles. "I don't doubt it."

Oikawa's answering sigh is one of defeat, as if he's already aware of his loss. Strangely, he doesn't seem too put out about it. For an inventor known for his cutthroat business tactics, Kuroo is impressed. The brunet stares at his husband with one last attempt. "You know, they might be here to kill you."

"Then he'd be dead already," Tsukishima interrupts, honestly, and Kuroo smirks with pride.

_"Why you little--"_

"We think the chief in the north might be behind the murders," Daishou claims, bluntly, and yeah...that's not how Kuroo would've done it but it gets to the point pretty quickly. "And he's trying to pin them on Tsukishima because...um...that's actually a long story."

Daishou rubs the back of his neck, barely dodging the stab of Tsukishima's elbow into his side.

Ushijima and Oikawa exchange a look, Oikawa's filled with dread. Nonetheless, he tilts his head in acceptance of whatever Ushijima wants to do.

Kuroo guesses that's just how it is when people love each other; Oikawa will defend Ushijima no matter what, even if it’s from a mess he gets himself into.

With that settled, Ushijima nods.

"Hm." The official rises from his seat steadily, gesturing for them all to follow. "Let's move to the parlor for tea, I have a feeling there's much to go over."

Not what Oikawa expected. "Tea?! Now?"

"We can have your favorite." The smile Ushijima gives him is...different, just for Oikawa, and Kuroo has to look away from how intimate it is.

Oikawa deflates for the second time, all protest withering away. Guess that's another thing about marriage, they know each other's weaknesses, and some are fun to use.

Oikawa turns on his heel in under a second, striding towards the next room without looking back. Try as he may to appear in control, Kuroo can tell it's just to hide his blush. "...I still don't approve of this just so you know."

"I appreciate your willingness to stand by me anyways," Ushijima calls out to him, and it's hook, line, and sinker.

Oikawa's footsteps halt sadly in the middle of the foyer, as if it's taking everything for him to not simply sink to his knees in surrender. "You...you always have to say things like that."

Daishou hides his smirk in his hand, but then Tsukishima whispers something about Mika and Daishou is just as useless as Oikawa.

Ushijima's expression doesn't give away any feelings of pride or triumph though, not even the slightest hint of teasing. It's pure fondness, and when Oikawa turns around finally, he's powerless to it, just like anyone else would be. "Alright, c'mon!"

\--

The life of a rich person isn't exactly Kuroo's thing, but every once in a while, it's nice to indulge in.

_This is good tea._

"See, this is why Water Tribe food is better," Daishou says with a mouth stuffed with seal jerky, and any comfort Kuroo felt before is gone.

Not even the plush couch cushions and the lit fire can--actually okay, those are nice, he takes it back. This is  _nice_ , but it doesn't exactly take away from the seriousness of the subject.

Though, with how many times Tsukishima has had to tell his life story, Kuroo can tell he's getting better at it. Through all the painful memories and details, the blond still manages to smile at Daishou's absurdity.

Kuroo likes to think his hand on Tsukishima's helps too, and his feelings are confirmed when Tsukishima squeezes back every so often.

Despite the awfulness of the subject, Kuroo feels warm, like the calm before the inevitable storm.

"That's why we think Akiteru is trying to pin this on Tsukishima," Kuroo says after the blond finishes his story. "He obviously knows he's in Republic City, and he still holds a grudge."

Silence answers.

Even Oikawa is rendered speechless, his tea steaming to the brim in his fancy cup, untouched. Kuroo knew it would be this way of course; Tsukishima's past is too insane to be a lie, too shrouded in agony...

Tsukishima looks down at the Water Tribe insignia carved into the coffee table, and the faraway look in his eyes is one Kuroo will never be used to seeing.

Ushijima stares at them for a long time, hands in front of his mouth as he contemplates everything. It's a lot, Kuroo knows. When he first heard it, he didn't know where to start. Yet, the urge to protect Tsukishima prevailed despite the doubt he felt.

He hopes the same feeling is ignited in Ushijima.

Eventually, the man takes a deep breath and sits back against the couch; like a true diplomat, he is careful with his words. "I had a feeling there was something more behind the former chief's death. He was young and healthy, albeit with a bad temper. But I never would've assumed he'd take things so far. I am very sorry for the pain you have endured Tsukishima-san."

The shock on Tsukishima's face hurts Kuroo's heart; it's the reaction of someone who expected to be thrown out, to not be believed. That's all Tsukishima has had experience with outside of Daishou and Kuroo. Hearing someone else accept what he's gone through, to trust him...

It must mean more than he can say.

"I'm...I'm working through it," Tsukishima whispers, clearing his throat hastily as he glances shyly at Kuroo and Daishou. "I've had help."

Daishou nudges him, but it's gentle, and Tsukishima's smile widens. But then, Daishou's expression gets back to business, falling to Ushijima with skepticism.

"No offense Ushijima-san, but you don't seem very surprised," the waterbender says, wiping the crumbs from his face.

"No kidding," Oikawa mutters, his husband turning towards him. "This is something out of a conspiracy book, and you're sitting here completely fine?"

Ushijima's brow furrows, and he looks down at his hands thoughtfully. "I don't mean to be cryptic, I'm simply trying to piece my memories together. When he was here, I met with the older Tsukishima, your brother," Ushijima confesses.

Oikawa is the first to react, nodding. Of course he knew, he was probably there. "I remember, all the members of the council welcomed him to the city. You stayed with him though, because you thought it would be more comfortable for him to be around someone from the Water Tribes."

Ushijima nods once, confirming the words. "Even then...I had a feeling Tooru. Something was wrong."

Tsukishima squints, fidgeting with his sleeves. He scoots forward on the couch, eager for more information. "What do you mean?"

"I cannot explain it fully, but he was very...jittery, not at all calm. I thought then that it must be because he was new to the job, or the grief from his father passing. Now I'm not sure. He kept looking over his shoulder, inquiring about the murder case. I could tell he was trying not to sound so obsessed, but he brought it up enough times for me to notice.

"If it's truly because he was surprised that the murders were not solved, perhaps you were right. He expects you to take the fall, and the fact that you haven't has been causing him some discomfort."

"Not to mention all that terrible press he's getting," Oikawa adds. "I'll admit it's nice to have a break from reporters, but your brother was practically dying on that podium. That's the desperation of someone who would do anything..."

"Like plant a necklace?" Daishou offers, and Oikawa expression shifts into skepticism.

"Ushijima-san," Tsukishima asks, tracing the coffee table with his hands. This time, the Water Tribe symbol means something more to him than home. "When my brother was here, did he have his palace guards?"

The other aspect of Kuroo's theory flashes in his mind. If Akiteru is behind all this, how did he accomplish the murders? Did he even mean for things to escalate that far?

Either way, there's someone with blood on their hands, and if Akiteru was busy in the North, then...

At the question, Ushijima's eyes widen. "Now that you ask, he did. Not at all times though, they would rotate, often at odd times. Most leaders have their own security though, we thought nothing of it. They're not usually registered in the same way, and I don't recall all of them coming off the boat with Akiteru when he arrived."

Tsukishima gives Kuroo a knowing look, and Ushijima connects the dots right along with them. "It's possible they could've been in the city for weeks without us knowing."

"So what, we go get the son of a bitch now?" Oikawa asks, and they all look at him in disbelief. Wasn't he against them?

"What? You can't make this stuff up, and if Wakatoshi believes you..." Oikawa sighs. "Well, when it comes to these things he's not usually wrong. If he trusts you, then so do I."

Daishou stumbles over his words, but at least he's doing better than Kuroo. "Thank you Oikawa-san..."

"Don't thank me yet," the brunet says, his smile rueful. "There's a lot to do."

"He's right." Ushijima reaches over to squeeze Oikawa's knee, a display of affection which must be so common, Oikawa hardly reacts to it. "It is true the necklace is definitely one of older Northern royalty, I believe you that it could've been planted. Akiteru was backed by a personal security force the entire time he was here, they likely are the ones with actual blood on their hands. But apart from that, we don't know enough to say Akiteru was aware of any of it. No one will believe us with just this hunch, it's not plausible."

The realism of Ushijima's words is what they need, but not what they want to hear. It's what gets him in trouble with the press; the bluntness is not something the public can always handle.

They all take it in out of respect, knowing their chances are slim.

"Akiteru will be able to deny it, to cast doubt on us or pin it on another one of his people," Ushijima continues. Tsukishima glares into the void; Kuroo has no doubt the blond doesn't want anyone to suffer as he had. "Our reputations would sooner be damaged before his. You were very smart to lay low Tsukishima-san. Had the police known about you, I don't doubt you'd already be behind bars. They would've made this evidence enough."

Ushijima points to the sketch, and Tsukishima swallows thickly. It's pure luck he wasn't immediately found, and Kuroo wants to hold the blond close every time he remembers that.

"I know," Tsukishima whispers, his other hand coming to cover Kuroo's. It's never enough.

"I'm sure it must be hard for you to accept," Oikawa adds in a moment of sympathy. It's good he can be there to say the things Ushijima can't always get across or relate to. Emotions are a tricky thing, and as someone who came from nothing, Oikawa has surely seen some shit.

"I'll be honest, I don't know if I have yet," Tsukishima confesses. "But I need to know."

The blond stares long and hard at his hands around Kuroo's, the months of pain sitting in his golden eyes. "If it is my brother behind all this, you don't need to worry. I'll  _make_  him admit it."

It sends a shiver down Kuroo's spine, because for once, there's no mercy to be found in the other's voice, and Kuroo is glad.

Ushijima nods. "If you plan on confronting him, there's not much I can do to help you. Finding evidence, or getting him to confess, will not be easy. The most I can do is supply you with anything you need, and maybe get you a reduced sentence if you fail."

Again, the blunt, practical words don't leave Kuroo feeling hopeful, but he's thankful for them. He has to be reminded of what's at stake.

"If you do succeed though, I will be the first person to help you get rid of the banishment charges against you," Ushijima adds, nodding at Daishou as well. "The both of you."

"Thank you," the waterbenders reply in unison, the fire already building in their eyes. Kuroo knows how hard they've worked to get to this point, how much they've had to go through. They've earned the right to go home, and he doubts anything will stop them at this point.

With that, Oikawa rises from the couch, stretching towards the ceiling as a devilish grin grows on his face. An inventor indeed. "You'll need all the help you can get. My husband isn't one to…improvise, but I am. Let me cook something up. You're a metalbender, right?"

Oikawa points at Kuroo, a plan already piecing itself together in his eyes. Kuroo is a little scared, he'll admit it.

"Uh, yes?"

When Oikawa grins, he shows his teeth. "Good, that can work."

Kuroo doesn't ask.

"In the meantime, is there anything else you'll be needing?" Ushijima offers, and they all look at each other before smiling.

It's probably a moment they've been waiting for, and for quite some time. Tsukishima lets Daishou have the honor.

"If it's not too much trouble Ushijima-san, we're going to need a boat," the waterbender says, empowered beyond belief. It's not how they planned on going home, but it's a start, it's a way.

And for Tsukishima, that's all he needs. "Preferably, one with a cargo hold."

The blonds fingers tighten around his, but there's no fear in his eyes as they burn through the Water Tribe insignia on the table below. Ushijima nods and rises from his seat, but Kuroo can tell Tsukishima is no longer listening.

They all know this is the start of how it all ends, it's impossible to not feel it in the air around them; or maybe it's something in the water.

Kuroo smiles as Tsukishima sets his sights forward, and it might be the only time Kuroo has seen Tsukishima truly out for blood.

And really, that's how this all started; blood and bone. Except this time, Tsukishima won't be afraid to finish things.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'll try to be back soon, next time we're heading to the North Pole ;) 
> 
> Also please check out these [atla tsukki charms](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole/status/1144400640082247680) my friend made for me, they're so cute!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are always appreciated <3 
> 
> I feel like I have so much to say about this fic bc I've been constructing this world and outlining it for a whole month, but I guess it's better to keep things a surprise haha. If you want to know what Tsukki's outfit looks like though, check it out [here!](https://imgur.com/a/Z9BhONH) This fic was basically my excuse to play dress up with everyone, so stay tuned for lots of outfits pft. Thanks again, and see you next time! 
> 
>  [Come yell at me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/itsloveuasshole)


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